Wolfe's Bane
by Cygnus Crux
Summary: Harry learns that loose ends come back to haunt you again and again. {Builds on EaL, MW and Un.) PLEASE R
1. The Road of Revenge

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters created and owned by J.K. Rowling and distributed by various publishers and media companies including Warner Brothers, Bloomsbury books, Scholastic Books, and Raincoast books. No money is made from this and no copyright infringement is intended. Also, at certain points throughout the story there will be some quotes and ideas that are borrowed from other sources, and I hereby disclaim those as well. Let us make it a game, shall we? :-) Call 'em if you see 'em.

Author's Note: The writing of this fic is progressing reasonably well, so I decided to post it early. Chapters may be expected every ten days, though there may be a hiatus in July.

Wolfe's Bane

Chapter 1

****

The Road of Revenge

It felt like he had no blood left in his body. Though broken, his heart still pumped. But now, it pumped cold hatred instead of warm blood.

There had been blood everywhere. It had poured out of three bodies onto the white stone floor, mingling to form one large pool. That's how he'd found her, with her beautiful lapis lazuli eyes wide open, staring unseeingly into space, devoid of all life. Her long white hair had been spread out over the floor like a blood-soaked silver and red halo. Her belly had been cut open in a crude caesarean section, and her child had been ripped out. Inside the mangled abdomen there had been a purple-flowered herb. The perpetrator's calling card, Aconite … also known as Wolf's Bane.

He'd never laugh again. If there was a benevolent deity, it had to have a sick sense of humour. Sunshine streamed through the crematorium's skylight. It was April Fool's, and the weather was mild and sunny. The emergence of new life went completely against his feelings, mocking his pain … mocking her death. 

The elder boy was crying, upsetting the younger by doing so. He kept asking his aunt what had happened to his mother. He didn't understand that she'd never be coming back. He didn't understand that he'd been deprived of his last remaining grandparent, as well as his mother.

It shouldn't have happened, but it had happened anyway, because he had strayed from the path destiny had shown him. Master Lei had always told him that the battle had chosen him, and that allowing others into his life would be to endanger them. In spite of that warning, he'd settled down with the woman who had shown him the meaning of love, and had taught him that it wasn't always easy to understand. A benevolent deity would have considered that to be a good thing, but instead he'd taken her away.

He glanced at the redhead holding his sons' hands. She too was suffering because he'd allowed himself to be caught off guard. Her mother had simply been at the wrong place at the wrong time, but she'd been killed along with her husband and stepdaughter anyway.

Wolfe had waved their killer's threats and curses away with contempt, disregarding the caution Master Lei had instilled in him over the years. That was probably why Master Lei's lessons had been haunting his dreams for the past week, particularly those concerning Machiavelli's wisdom. Machiavelli considered it a mark of great prudence in a man to abstain from threats or any contemptuous expressions, for neither of those weakened the enemy. Instead, threats made the enemy more cautious, while contempt excited the enemy's hatred and stoked a desire to exact revenge. He'd done it to himself. He hadn't taken his foe seriously, and he'd dismissed her as a threat to him.

Medea Aconit must have had outside help with breaking out of Azkaban unnoticed, and there was only one wizard alive who had the means of accomplishing such a task. Leaving Yamato as a loose end had been a mistake.

Wolfe balled his fists. He knew why they had targeted Galatea, aside from the fact that she'd been vulnerable, away from Concordia. They had tried to break him—and they had succeeded. They had broken Max, the father and husband. But in doing so they had revived Wolfe, avenger of their innocent victims. They too should have minded Machiavelli's wisdom. If an injury had to be done to a man, it should be so severe that his vengeance need not be feared. But those who had wronged him had plenty to fear.

"Wolfe?" the question echoed in his mind as well as in his ears. Harry was worried, because he was being kept out.

He stared at the tiny box Harry was holding in front of him. Galatea had always wanted to be cremated. Her ashes had been magically crushed and compacted until they formed a glittering crystal. Sunlight reflected off it, taunting his eyes. But at least there was no body for Yamato to dig up and use for his own fiendish ends.

Reaching over, he relieved Harry of his precious burden and closed the box. He hadn't thought about what he ought to do with the crystal. She'd often told him how much she had loved the place where Harry and Ginny had got married. Maybe he could ask the centaurs for permission to bury her there. They probably wouldn't refuse, since they had known her well. She'd instructed them in the many uses of Miraculum Weed, and forged a close bond with the centaur Healer.

He looked through the skylight at the cloudless sky above. Though they weren't visible, the sky held the stars that Galatea had loved so much, and the moon, which had often rekindled memories of her childhood in New Caledonia, mostly of her mother singing lullabies to her as the celestial body shone upon them. He could ask permission to take one of the Cruisers into space and place her on the face of the moon, where she'd have a special place to watch the stars. That would be his last act as Max.

The soil, or the sky? He lowered his gaze and observed his reflection in the polished gray marble floor, asking himself whether his children would like to visit the clearing to see their mother, or would it be better for them to remember her by looking at the moon?

"I would like to thank everyone for having come here," a voice with a noticeable French accent said. It was Tiresias, the elder of Galatea's two brothers. Having gone to school in Ogygia, where Greek was the common language, but most students had mentors who spoke their native tongue, his English wasn't as polished as that of his siblings, who had gone to English-speaking schools. His irises were barely visible against the white sclera, and he had no discernible pupils. To Muggles he would be blind, but he had a very special gift, namely, he could see magical energy. While he risked bumping into Muggles and non-magical plants, animals, and inanimate objects, everything containing magical energy was as visible to him as it was to anyone. "I really appreciate it, and my sister, father, and stepmother would have also. She would not have wanted you to mourn too much for her and let your grief stop your from living. She would want you to enjoy every day."

Wolfe picked the hem of Heidi's long skirt as a focal point, trying not to think about…anything.

Henry began to wail. "I want mama!" 

Thetis, Galatea's plump sister, who was known for being a bit too prone to 'taste' her culinary creations excessively, tried to console his son. But though Henry had seen her a few times, she was a virtual stranger to him. Heidi quickly took the toddler over and rocked him, calming him almost instantly. He _had_ his mama. Heidi would be a good mother to his children after he was gone.

Then Heidi stepped forward to say some words on her mother's behalf.

* * *

Harry ought to have been angry about it. The happiness brought by the previous day's arrival of his daughter, Holly Hermione Potter, had been dampened by the Angelous' brutal murder a week earlier. Ginny had felt terrible about not being able to attend the funeral. Though she had recovered from the birth as quickly as some of the hardier African herd herbivores did—courtesy of Holly's older sister, after whom she'd been named—she had felt that the mother-daughter bonding process shouldn't be interrupted. And bringing a day-old infant to such a gloomy event wouldn't have been the right way to start her life. 

He heard Robert's sniffling sounds and turned to check if he needed some words of comfort. His heart nearly broke at the sight of the boy, and he counted himself fortunate that he'd been too young to be aware of his parents' deaths. Not being three yet, Henry wasn't quite as badly affected as his older brother was. Though the grief would return, he'd momentarily forgotten it, and was playing with Nathaniel Kelly and the Faust brothers in a corner of the courtyard.

But Robert was being taken care of. He lay curled up on a bench with his head in little Rachel Kelly's lap. She'd shed some tears too, while sharing her best friend's grief. Now she stroked his hair as she softly hummed a song to him. At only four and a half, she was already a rock. It was beginning to look like Ginny had had a true vision of the future after all.

More adults poured into the courtyard from the Wolfe residence. Neville was present too, since Armand Angelou had been a friend as well as a business partner. He was speaking to Calypso, the youngest of the remaining Angelou children. She'd been excused from school to attend the funeral, and granted special consideration, since her father and sister's deaths preceded the equivalent of her N.E.W.T.s by a very short time, and thus would likely affect her performance in a negative way. She had a knack for working with plants, and had been planning to follow in her father's footsteps.

Claire Montoya-Cruz, now a Lieutenant and Heidi's immediate superior in the Diplomatic Division, entered the courtyard, pushing a pram in front of her. Her nine-month-old son Inigo tried to right himself to see what was going on around him, while his sister Isabel went off to play. The little girl, who was about three months shy of her second birthday, pattered off to join the two children who were her regular playmates at Jasmine's unofficial Ranger children day-care. These three children had been born within two months of one another. His son's green eyes lit up as he recognised the girl. He nudged his cousin Raina, Ron's daughter, signalling that they had company.

"All right there, Harry?" Bill's voice said. Harry followed the sound and spotted Bill leaning out of the Wolfe's kitchen window. Fleur, Gabrielle, and their mother had also travelled to Concordia to grieve with the next of kin, bringing their in-laws with them. Fortunately, Armand Angelou had been an only child of already deceased parents, rendering the complication of Concordia's 'No Muggles' rule irrelevant.

"Can't really expect me to be, under these circumstances."

"I suppose not," Bill acknowledged. "What about Wolfe?"

"I don't know. He closed himself off completely."

"Make a guess."

Harry sighed. "I'd say he's not okay—definitely not." He knew Wolfe was planning something. He couldn't discount the possibility of attempted time-travel. He'd have to warn Faust about that possibility.

Bill looked over his shoulder. "Yeah, he's just sitting there, brooding. He hardly responded when Charlie and I tried to talk to him earlier. That look he gave us was a bit unsettling too. He won't even talk to Jasmine."

The door on the Kelly's side of the courtyard swung open. A very pregnant Gudrun, wearing sober black robes, walked into the courtyard followed by Matt. He carried his fourteen-month-old son Alexander over to the corner where Isabel Montoya was playing with Richard and Raina, and put him down. The boy immediately made a grab for the Harry Potter action figure in the toy chest. 

Gudrun and Matt went inside to offer their condolences to the next of kin. Then, after a few minutes, Matt came back outside, followed by Charlie.

"Get the day off, then?" Harry asked Charlie.

"Just an hour to pay my respects to the family. Things are a bit hectic right now. A female Re'em has given birth to a silver-furred calf. Two males have courted her, so we're not sure who the father is. I've got to go find out." He looked at Bill, who was leaning out of the kitchen window. "How about a cup of coffee?"

"I don't know where Wolfe keeps his coffee, and you wouldn't want to drink anything I conjure up."

Charlie grimaced. "My taste buds remember. Yuck!"

"We could have a coffee at my house," Matt said.

"I thought you didn't have any, to shield Gudrun from temptation," Charlie said, as he and Harry followed Matt to the Kelly's pocket mansion.

"How do _you_ know about that?" Matt asked, surprised.

"Because your wife complained about it to—" Charlie caught himself before actually saying the name. "Well, women talk. Damn, this is awkward."

"Galatea wouldn't have wanted us to avoid mentioning her," Harry said.

Matt nodded. "You're right."

"So where _do_ you hide your coffee?"

"Upstairs, in a cavity behind Nathan's portrait. I drink it while she's away." He glanced out of the window, peeking at the house at the other side of the courtyard.

"Gudrun's occupied," Harry assured him. "If she comes back, we'll just tell her it's my coffee."

"I'll be right back," Matt said, before he raced up the stairs.

Harry took a moment to look around while Matt was still upstairs. There were several wizarding photographs of the family, as well as recent individual photos of the children lined up on the fireplace, going from the eldest to the youngest. 

The one in the far left showed Mary in school robes, standing in the snow. In the background, Harry saw the valley where the school was located. Though both the Wizards' Academy and the Witches' Institute had their roots in the old Salem Village—what was now Danvers, in Massachusetts—the schools had been relocated to a sparsely populated area in the hills near the Canadian border about a century and a half ago. The schools were now located in another state, even further in the north. Then there was Rachel, flashing Harry a cheeky grin that strongly reminded Harry of her mother's. Nathaniel, having more robust facial features, clearly favoured Matt's father and brother with regards to looks. However, his blue eyes were the same pale shade as Gudrun's, telling Harry that they might not change like Mary's eyes had. Finally there was Alexander, whose face showed traces of his father's features. But it was still too baby-like to resemble any adult relative's too much.

Bill walked into the house just as Matt came thundering down the stairs, clutching a coffee bag. Harry followed them to the kitchen, where they found Charlie holding a framed picture. When he noticed them coming in, he smiled and flipped the picture around to show it to Matt. "I'm no Seer, but I'd bet a thousand Galleons that he's your future son-in-law."

Matt returned a wry smile. "Yeah, we got that picture on Saturday. It was taken a week earlier, at the Spring Equinox dance. I hope everything works out, because Mary would be crushed beyond recovery if Nicolai were to break up with her."

"Why would he do that?" Bill asked.

Matt began counting off the facts on his fingers. "He finished his first three years in one year, and took his Basic Wizarding Skill tests last year. I heard that he easily could have taken his advanced tests later this year and earn top marks, but he's chosen not to rush his school years too much. Still, he'll finish seven years of school in _four_! And I've seen him at the Japanese court. He's something else.

"Then there's the fact that she's the only girl he's ever been involved with, romantically. He might not be willing to leave his scorecard at one. I know _I_ would have wondered about the other fish in the sea, if I'd been in his situation."

"You think he'll grow tired of her because she won't stimulate his intellect?" Harry asked. He'd been looking at the picture with Mary in dress robes, gazing up at Nicolai as they danced to what seemed to be a slow song.

"Mary's decently gifted, but she's nowhere near his level," Matt said conversationally, while he threw the beans in the magical grinder. It started to work as soon as the first beans clattered in the top. "No one is, actually."

"I can't say anything about Nicolai's curiosity for other girls, though I think he'll stick with Mary. And he doesn't care about Mary's brains," Harry began, but when Bill and Charlie laughed out loud—the sadness over Galatea's death momentarily forgotten—he realised that it came out completely wrong. "What I meant to say is, he's not always Nicolai the Professor. That's only one state of mind. You needn't worry about him ever getting frustrated because she doesn't understand him. He loves her because, when they first met, she accepted him in spite of his idiosyncrasies."

Matt tipped the ground coffee into a filter and placed it in a wizarding coffee maker. With a flick of the wand, hot water dripped into ground beans, soaking through to the bottom and leaking into a transparent pot. The fragrance filled the room and lifted Harry's spirits. While magic could substitute lots of things, it always seemed to fall a bit short of the real thing.

"So when is Ginny coming home?" Charlie asked, while they patiently waited for the coffee.

"Noon, tomorrow," Harry said. "Oh, bloody hell, _tomorrow_! I've got to take over a training session _this evening_. Wolfe was scheduled to do it, but he's hardly up to it now. I reckon I could take Richard with me so Ginny could spend some time with him, but I just know he'll be bored. Besides, he'd probably wreck Montoya's lab. Charlie, could you take him in for a couple of hours?"

"Of course. One more won't matter," Charlie said. By 'one more' he had meant Raina, who had been staying with Charlie and Jasmine for the past week, since Ron and Hermione had both been scheduled to go on a two-week patrol, each on a different Cruiser.

"Does that happen often, that both Ron and Hermione are away on field missions?" Bill, sounding a bit concerned.

Since things were relatively peaceful, only two Cruisers were out on patrol at any given time. At first, Harry had shared Bill's concern about Hermione's workload. But Hermione had explained the arrangement to him, and Harry realised that it wasn't too bad. There were eleven Rangers in the Medical Division. Nine of those rotated for two-week patrols on the Cruisers, since Sharif and Serafina Esposito had offered their continued service on the condition that they would have no Cruiser duty. In return, they happily worked ten-hour lab-shifts during the day, aided by assistants from the Concordian House of Healing. Two teams of two or three Rangers, alternating on the seven-hour evening and graveyard shifts until it was their turn for Cruiser Duty, would fill the remainder of the twenty-four hours. The ones returning from a mission had the weekdays off for two whole weeks, working only in the weekends, which Serafina and Sharif had off. 

"Actually, it wasn't supposed to happen, and it'll probably never happen again. Command didn't have any choice this time. And after her mission, Hermione will have ten whole days to spend with Raina. It isn't all that bad. Right now there are one hundred and three—no—two, Rangers," he said, amending the numbers for Galatea's loss. "In the early days there were no more then eighty of us, and we didn't get _any_ time off. Even _thinking_ about children was out of the question. At least we have that option now, though Faust suggested that perhaps we ought to breed less aggressively," Harry added with a chuckle. "With Ginny and Gudrun's maternity leave, and Lilia following them in seven or eight weeks, he's having trouble filling the schedule. Good thing we're getting new recruits again in June."

"Are there any Artificers among them?" Matt asked. "I hear I'm pretty hated in the maintenance bay for having kept Gudrun almost perpetually pregnant these last three years."

Harry laughed as something occurred to him. "That reminds me—I thought you planned to stop after two boys. What's the reason for this last pregnancy?"

"Food poisoning," Matt said ruefully. "Gudrun threw up shortly after drinking the Birth-Control Potion, so it didn't properly take effect."

"Is it a boy or a girl?" Bill asked.

"A girl. I saw it on the tapestry. We're going to name her Buttercup."

"_Buttercup_?" Bill, Charlie and Harry chorused.

"Gudrun won't consider any other names. Good thing this is our last kid, because Gudrun gets crazier with every pregnancy."

"Could I see that tapestry some time?" Bill asked. "I've heard vague stories about it from Ron and Hermione. It sounds fascinating."

"It's full of surprises," Matt said darkly.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked, picking up on Matt's mood.

"I went to Caer Sidi today to place some items in the vault, and while there I walked by the tapestry. Wolfe's son is alive, and by the looks of it, Galatea must have been alive and conscious when they cut the baby out of her, because he has a name."

Harry knew that Alexander hadn't had a name until two days after his birth, because Matt and Gudrun hadn't agreed on one. It was then that they had found out that the name would only appear if one of the parents gave the child its name. 

"She must have kept her head clear, and named him before she died," Matt continued, growling. "His name is Westley."

That was the name Galatea and Wolfe had intended to give the child. Harry wasn't in the mood for coffee anymore. The mere thought that Galatea had been conscious when Medea Aconit had performed her butchery was revolting. Harry had no idea how Wolfe would react to this news, but for better or worse, he had a right to know.

He looked out of the kitchen window and saw little Inigo Montoya crawling valiantly to where his sister was playing with Richie and Raina. He wondered if Westley would ever play with them.

* * *

The smell of paint lingering on the nursery's walls brutally invaded his nostrils. He'd repainted it with fresh new colours when Galatea had been at her parents', hoping to surprise her upon her return. No other person would have been able to smell the paint, unless they pressed their noses to the wall. But owing to the changes he'd undergone due to the absorption of some of the powers Novoridu's pendants had contained, to him the smell was as prominent as paint that was still wet. 

Westley had been due a day before Harry and Ginny's baby. He could have been snoozing in his crib. Instead, the crib was empty, and the pyjamas Wolfe had bought lay unused on the mattress. He picked the long pyjama shirt off the bed, rubbing the soft cotton between his fingers. Emotion threatened to overwhelm him.

He threw the shirt back into the crib and hastily left the nursery for the adjacent master bedroom. He sank onto the bed, drained, touching it for the first time since her death. At times he'd returned to the master bedroom, hoping that it had all been a bad dream and that he'd find Galatea sleeping peacefully on the bed. The empty bed had reinforced the cold reality.

His gaze fell on Galatea's dressing gown. It floated off a hook on the wall next to Galatea's side of the bed and into his outstretched hand. It was suffused with her scent, and it brought back unbidden memories of their final morning together, when he'd felt his son moving in her belly.

Thudding footsteps on the stairs told him that his flight to the first floor hadn't been enough to keep the visitors away. He didn't want to hear how sorry they were. He didn't want to hear that life would go on. Galatea had made that kind of life possible, and without her, he had no life. Heidi had conquered a spot of her own in his heart, but she couldn't fill the hole Galatea's death had left.

"Maximilian?" a voice called.

"Wolfe?" Harry's more familiar voice followed.

Wolfe sighed. He wanted to be alone, but Harry had never had the sense to know when to quit. To make matters worse, Tiresias had accompanied him upstairs. The brief contemplation to put a locking charm on the door was rejected when he remembered that Harry would probably float through the door.

The door was slowly pushed open, and Harry's head poked through the aperture. "I know you're hurting, but that's no excuse to hide from the people who've come to support you through your pain."

"I don't need any support," Wolfe replied flatly.

"You don't want any, but you most certainly need it," Harry said boldly.

Normally Wolfe admired that trait in him, but now it was incredibly annoying. "What do you want?"

At this, Harry seemed to hesitate. That rapid change in Harry's attitude piqued his interest. He tried to link his mind to Harry's, but he was being blocked. Harry wanted to tell him verbally, but was unsure on how to approach the subject.

"Don't beat about the bush. Just tell me."

"Westley is alive."

It took several seconds for Harry's words to make sense, and for Wolfe's grief-stricken mind to link the name to the child. But when the information filtered through, a new sense of urgency took possession of his thoughts. His son's survival meant that the enemy had other plans. No doubt they intended to mould his son into their own evil image, and perhaps they wanted to use him as bait, hoping to lure Wolfe into a trap. Even so, he had no choice but to walk into it. "I have to find him."

"We'll find him," Harry said.

Wolfe shook his head. "It has to be a priority. I'm going to find him as soon as I've arranged for Robert and Henry's future care. I'm leaving the Order."

"You can't!" Harry exclaimed. "Galatea wouldn't have wanted—"

"I'm beyond emotional blackmail," Wolfe cut him off. "Time is running out for Westley. Every day that he's exposed to those bastards pushes him further along the path of corruption. I'm not going to find him in time if I have to play by the Order's rules. That limitation played a part in my failure to protect Galatea. I can't allow the same thing to happen to my son."

"You could not 'ave protected 'er, for 'er death was prophesised, "Tiresias said. "More specifically, _I_ Saw it, four years ago." 

"You knew!" Wolfe erupted, unable to control the rage that emerged upon the revelation. The windows, glass picture frames and mirrors shattered as the emotion drove a wave of raw magical power through the house. He was barely aware of the tremors that shook the foundation, and the panic it caused among the mourners on the floor below and outside. Someone had known all along, and they hadn't told him. "You knew, and you didn't tell me?"

Tiresias' stared at him unflinchingly. "Prophecies are always fulfilled, regardless of one's knowledge of them. I told Galatea about it, and she lived her life accordingly, enjoying it to the fullest and giving all the love she could give."

"But they often have several possible outcomes!" Wolfe screamed. Four years! Galatea's resignation about his feelings for Heidi suddenly made sense. All those times she had left him and Heidi alone together, practically hinting that they ought to have the proverbial candle-lit dinner, followed by the stroll under the full moon. Why hadn't she told him? If she had, maybe…

"This one has several possible outcomes, too," Tiresias said quietly. "_Her_ death was a given. _Your_ fate is the one hanging in the balance. Love will set you free, but revenge will lead to oblivion."

"Oblivion is better than anguish," Wolfe said bitterly. "It doesn't worry me. My son's fate _does_."

"Don't do anything rash," Harry warned. "Your hatred is clouding your judgement."

"Unlike you, Harry, I don't believe that waiting is the right course of action. These scumbags need to be made into an example. You of all people should understand that, because nearly every headline regarding the apprehension or destruction of the world's scum had our names on it, side by side. We're almost seen as a single wizard, just like when we were Phoenix. How long do you think it will be before your remaining enemies will interpret this as a weakness in _your_ defences? There is a good chance that some people are working out ways to harm the Weasleys in England."

Wolfe felt grim satisfaction as his comment struck a nerve, sending the blood draining out of Harry's face. "They wouldn't dare. You said so yourself!"

Wolfe remembered the boasts he'd made, almost three years ago. "Evidently, I was wrong. They've drilled the first hole in the dyke. If I don't plug the leak right now, the crack will widen and eventually it _will_ collapse. _None_ of the Rangers' families would be safe."

"You're rationalising the flaws in your plan. Don't you realise that they're probably expecting you to go after Westley? It's a trap!"

"That's the first thing I deduced. Don't lecture me about traps. I taught you a great deal about them."

Harry bristled. "I knew a thing or two about them _before_ I joined the Order."

"So did I," Wolfe growled. "You're wasting my time, kid. I'm going after Aconit and Yamato, and I'll use any means necessary to bring them to justice."

"What kind of justice? Eye for an eye?"

"Oh, no. Merely taking their lives would be far too charitable," Wolfe said slowly. "That wouldn't set much of an example to the others."

Harry shook his head. "You said that you'll no longer play by the Order's rules. Does that mean you won't care about collateral damage? You and I both know that they'll use innocent people to shield themselves. Would you jeopardise the lives of innocents to get your revenge?"

"Nothing I can do will be as bad as what happened in Agua Caliente and Laketown. If the loss of life is acceptable, the answer would be yes."

"Who the hell are you to decide who lives and dies?"

"The world is a twisted place, and Galatea's dead because of it. Many more died before her, because the Order didn't destroy him when they had the chance. I'm talking about the time when Master Lei was commander. He had Yamato cornered, but he wasn't allowed to finish the job, because it would have endangered three innocent people. From that time until the day he was sent to Azkaban, he either killed or was responsible for the deaths of seventy-five more people. Add that to the number of people who died five years ago, and those three who were spared are truly insignificant."

"I've been taught that I can't disregard what is right in favour of what is easy. I can't let you go through with it."

Wolfe locked his gaze with Harry's. "I can't beat you, but if you try to stop me, I'll hit you with everything I've got. Many innocent people will get hurt in the process." It was not a bluff. He meant every word of it, and he threw his mind wide open to allow Harry to see that. "There is no _right_, here," he continued. "There's a greater evil, which would be your choice to fight me under the guise of morality, wrecking Nomad Island in the process. Then there is the lesser one, which would be to allow me to take the fight to the enemy and wipe a whole bunch of them off the face of the Earth."

"Nothing could justify that. In case you've forgotten, I lost my daughter," Harry growled. "But I didn't go on a mindless rampage, did I?"

"There's nothing mindless about my mission. I have a few aces up my sleeve… allies he doesn't know about. I won't cut my way through a wall of innocent flesh if I have other options."

"And if you don't?"

"Pray that it doesn't come to that. But if it does, rest assured that Yamato will also be killed, and be made to suffer for forcing me to do that."

Harry's expression darkened. "You've been warned. I won't stand in your way _now_, and I hope that you'll come to your senses later. However, if you slay even one innocent person to get to your enemies, our friendship will be over."

Wolfe nodded. "I know."

"There won't be anything left for you here. Do you think your children will want you back after they inevitably find out someday, that you willingly abandoned them?"

"I wasn't planning on coming back. My children will be better off without me anyway. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some arrangements to make for them."

Harry exhaled and seemed to deflate as he did so. He gave Wolfe one last weary look before turning around and shuffling out of the room.

Tiresias remained for a moment, scrutinising him with those seeing yet unseeing eyes. "May you find yourself before you find your enemies," he finally said, before he too left the room.

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A/N Reviews are very much appreciated, and always answered.

Don't hesitate to mention your likes or dislikes, even if another reviewer has already mentioned something similar. (If you're someone who reads the other reviews before reviewing yourself.) Similar feedback from several reviewers tells an author how readers react to certain plot devices, thus enabling him to learn something from it.


	2. Friends, Past and Present

Chapter 2

**Friends, Past and Present**

As Gudrun and Hermione crossed the courtyard over to _The Wolfes' Den_ to pick up their children, the sound of merry singing accompanied by a piano met their ears. Since it had rained cats and dogs all day, Hermione guessed that Heidi had improvised some indoor activities for the children.

_Doe, a deer, a female deer_

_Ray, a drop of Golden Sun_

_Me, a name, I call myself_

_Far, a long, long way to run…_

"Who the hell does she think she is, Mary Poppins?" Gudrun grumbled.

Hermione suppressed a smirk. Gudrun was a bit jealous of Heidi, because her children preferred spending time at Aunt Heidi's even when their parents _were_ home. The sentiment showed how well Heidi had taken to her new job. Whereas Jasmine previously had allowed the children to do more or less as they pleased, provided that they didn't cause trouble, Heidi had transformed the house into a full-fledged day-care centre and kindergarten.

Since she was Henry's godmother, and Galatea's stepsister, Wolfe had asked her to be his children's guardian. Charlie and Jasmine had offered to relieve her of that burden, knowing that it would be impossible for Heidi to continue working if she had to care for two young children. But to everyone's surprise at the time, Heidi had immediately resigned from the Order. Later, as more details became known and the prophecy foretelling Galatea's death was officially revealed, they also discovered that Galatea, perhaps anticipating Max's reaction to her death, had left Heidi a letter that asked her to look after the children.

Having decided to use the extra time on her hands productively, Heidi had come up with a plan to take more pressure off the working parents in the Order. Hermione, for one, was very grateful for it.

"Actually, that's from The Sound of Music."

"Same perky Julie Andrews," Gudrun said.

"I'm quite surprised that she's even heard of it, being a pureblood," Hermione mentioned as they walked into _The Wolfe's Den_.

The entire ground floor had been cleared of its former decorations, and things had been set up to allow the room to function as a kindergarten. Four square, low tables, each with four matching chairs for the children to sit on, occupied the room. A few miniature easels had been set up for the children to finger-paint with, but at the moment, they stood abandoned.

Jasmine was just dragging Richie Potter into a corner of the room while giving him a stern talking to. Hermione noticed that Xander Kelly and Inigo 'Monty' Montoya already occupied two other corners of the room. Both were staring guiltily at their feet, and Hermione realised why when her gaze fell on Eleanor and Eloise Faust, whose faces and hair were covered in paint. The boys' paint-covered hands were the smoking guns.

Heidi was oblivious to it all. She continued to sing merrily and play the piano, accompanied haltingly but enthusiastically by Raina and Isabel Montoya, and more melodiously by Rosie Weasley and Rachel Kelly, who were older and knew all the words.

That was the arrangement. Heidi loved the children so much that she couldn't punish them even if she wanted to, while Jasmine had no qualms about disciplining the children when they needed it. Heidi was the 'good' teacher and Jasmine was the 'bad' teacher, and the children knew they were in trouble when Aunt Heidi went to get Aunt Jasmine. Towards Henry and Robert, however, Heidi could be just as severe as Jasmine.

Heidi, who had seen Hermione and Gudrun come in, finished up the do-re-mi and led a round of applause for the effort put in by the three-year-olds, Raina and Isabel. Then she waved Hermione and Gudrun over, and they carefully negotiated their way through the toys scattered all over the floor. Gudrun passed the piano and continued straight to the corner when her youngest son was standing. She picked him up, headed to the kitchen, and closed the door behind her. Xander was in trouble!

"It isn't too crowded today," Hermione said, as she said down next to Heidi on a second stool.

"It _is_, actually. All the kids are here together. Robert and Henry are upstairs, showing the Faust brothers Robert's new carpet. The younger ones are napping in the nursery, thank goodness." Heidi nodded to a mirror on the wall, and Hermione saw four cribs with sleeping children in them.

"Mind if I get mine? I've really missed her."

Heidi rose from her stool and led Hermione to the nursery. The door to Robert and Henry's room was open, allowing her to catch a glimpse of Robert hovering on his small carpet, much to the awe of the younger boys. Then they reached the nursery, and Heidi ushered her in.

She passed the nearest crib. Through the mosquito net she saw a baby girl whose first birthday party had been joyously celebrated two weeks ago. Her prominent ears identified her as Geo and Lilia's second-born, Naomi. The next crib revealed her niece, Holly, who had inherited her father's black hair, though the tuft on her head didn't look as though it would evolve into the messy thatch her father and older brother had. Then there was Buttercup Kelly, who had been born on the thirtieth of April, exactly one month after Holly. Her eyes fluttered open as Heidi and Hermione walked past, revealing two pretty amethyst eyes. Heidi quickly picked her up and rocked her gently, and the girl dozed off again in Heidi's arms.

Finally they reached Christine, who had one lock of bushy red hair on an otherwise bald little head. Hermione pulled the netting aside and lifted her baby out of the crib. She inhaled her daughter's scent as she cradled her. The abrupt separation almost a month ago, after six months of bonding with her new-born, had been difficult despite the fact that she'd already been through it with Raina. That was the main reason why she'd decided that, if she and Ron were to have any more children, that it would have to wait until she retired. She couldn't bear to go back to work a third time and leave her child in the care of others, even if she trusted them with her children's wellbeing.

"Are you sure you don't want a cup of tea, coffee or chocolate first?" Heidi whispered. "Raina will want lots of attention when you're home, and you look tired. It would be best to wait for Ron to get home, so she can spend some of her energy on him too. In a meantime, she can burn off some more energy by playing with Richard."

"Since you put it that way…" Hermione replied, and she gently put her daughter back in the crib and tugged the mosquito net back over it. It would indeed be best to wait for Ron to get home. If Ron didn't find her there, he'd know that she'd be at _The Wolfe's Den_. Heidi kissed Buttercup before putting her back in the crib, and the two women returned downstairs.

Xander was back in his corner sniffing and sobbing as he rubbed his bottom, looking on as his older and better behaved brother told their mother about his day. At nearly two and a half years old, Xander had a mournful expression that was a perfect copy of Matt's, and Hermione was startled by the uncanny resemblance between the boy and his father.

Raina ran up to her and Heidi and jumped into her arms, using one of the low tables to boost herself and gain more altitude. A typical tomboy stunt.

"Raina, how often do I have to tell you not to do things like that?" Heidi huffed. "You're lucky Aunt Jasmine didn't see you!"

"I love you, Aunt Heidi," Raina said, staring up at Heidi with big, innocent eyes, and Heidi's stern expression crumbled.

Hermione sighed. Her daughter knew exactly how to push Heidi's buttons. "Well, what about me? Don't you love me anymore?" she asked.

"I love you too, Mummy," her daughter said, smiling impishly.

The stairs thundered with four pairs of feet. The Wolfe brothers and the Faust brothers practically came flying off the stairs, and miraculously none of them got hurt.

"Aunt Janice is coming," Robert announced.

Jasmine muttered a few curses under her breath as she drew her wand. She flicked her wand at one twin, and then the other, cleaning them up as the security charms verified their mother's identity. Then she answered the door and let Janice Faust-Cliff in.

"Hello, Janice. Done packing for the trip?" Heidi asked.

"Thanks to you. It's hard to get any work done with the kids around," Janice replied.

"We're going to visit grandma and grandpa in Jamaica," Peter Faust piped up. "Grandma said she'd make my hair just like a real Rastafarian's."

"Is your husband going too?" Hermione asked, wondering whether Faust, who had taken over for Ironheart as Commander, could afford to take any time off.

"He'll be travelling back and forth. He'll spend three days with us _now_, and another three days at the end of our vacation. Not quite as much time as I had hoped, but he _does_ have a lot of responsibility." She turned to her children. "All right, children, give your aunts a big kiss goodbye. You won't see them for two whole weeks."

The Faust children swarmed around Heidi and kissed her.

"And what about Auntie Jasmine?" Janice asked, since her sons had made no move towards Jasmine. It was obvious that they were a bit intimidated by her.

Jasmine laughed. "That's all right. If I'm too familiar with them, I'll lose my authority. Have a good vacation, kids."

After the Faust family left, Hermione, Heidi, Gudrun and Jasmine settled down with some warm drinks, talking about the many children's parties they needed to remember, and the preparations for Anthony Ramos' second birthday, which was the next day. Since it was sometimes hard for the Ranger parents to plan and throw a birthday party for their offspring, Heidi took care of that too.

The previous month, June, had been especially crowded, since most of the Ranger-children had been born in that month. Henry had turned four on the first, Rosie had turned five on the eleventh, Isabel Montoya had turned three on the twenty-fifth, and Naomi Ramos had her first birthday on the twenty-eighth.

Heidi had also organised Raina's birthday, four days ago. Aside from Inigo and Tony, there were no other children's birthdays in July.

"What do you plan to do on your own birthday?" Hermione asked Heidi.

Heidi sighed. "My grandmother asked me to go to Austria for a few days, but I can't really do that. Who would take care of my children? No, I suppose I'll let it pass quietly. Maybe there will be more of a celebration when I turn thirty next year."

"You could take Robert and Henry with you," Gudrun suggested.

"I couldn't do that," Heidi said anxiously. "Not while Medea Aconit is still out there. It's not safe."

Hermione heaved a sigh. It had been one year, three months, and eight days since Max had vanished into the unknown. No one had heard from him since, and if it hadn't been for Harry's apparent ability to feel whether or not he was still alive, they wouldn't even have had _that_ assurance. On several occasions, they had tried to track Max through Harry's link, but apparently Max had learned to befuddle their connection enough to make that impossible. No one knew where Max had gone, whether he had changed his mind about things, or whether he'd be coming back.

Henry, who favoured Galatea both in looks and character, still nurtured some hope that his father would return someday. But Robert had given up, and worse, openly hated his father for having abandoned them, despite Heidi's efforts to convince him otherwise.

The doorbell rang. A mirror on the far wall showed George Ramos picking his nose in his own highly typical way—something that infuriated Lilia to no end. That alone had convinced Hermione that it was really Geo, and not some impostor, but the security magic still kicked in, casting half a dozen powerful detection spells over him. The mirror's glassy frame glowed green, and Jasmine opened the door. So far no one had attempted to abduct the children, but it paid to be cautious. _The Kellys' Keep_ had the same security measures, in case an evildoer tried to reach _The Wolfes' Den_ through _The Kelly's Keep_ and cross the courtyard, like Gudrun and Hermione had done.

"Looking good, Heidi," Geo said, eyeing Heidi in a complementary way—not lecherous, but openly admiring. Still, it would have sparked a flaming row with Lilia, had she been present.

Heidi blushed in a way that would have convinced Hermione that she was looking at another of Molly Weasley's daughters, were it not for the knowledge that Molly would never have put her child up for adoption, and the mere seven-month age difference between Heidi and Ron.

"You're just saying that, but thanks anyway." Heidi ran her hands along her hips and thighs. "Actually, I let myself go a bit ever since I left the Order."

"You look better for it," Geo insisted. "Curvier. And are those new earrings?"

Heidi nodded, touching one of the diamond studs.

"Hey, what about the rest of us?" Gudrun asked.

Geo grinned. "You're married. Buttering you up is a waste of time."

Jasmine chuckled. "You are married too, so Heidi can't take you too seriously either way."

"Actually, Lilia filed for divorce yesterday."

Gudrun laughed. "It's far too easy to do that here in Concordia. But are you serious? I didn't know you two were on the outs again, and Lilia tells me everything."

Hermione rolled her eyes. Lilia and Geo fought like cats and dogs most of the time, but the fact of the matter was that they were very happy together on those rare occasions that they weren't arguing. "What did you fight about _now_?"

"I made a remark about her being a bit of a slob and a bad example for Tony, but I didn't really mean it. Next thing I know, I'm dodging hexes. She blew my remark completely out of proportion. Man, I sure hope she isn't behaving like that because she's pregnant again. I wouldn't mind having one more kid, but not right now."

"You remark implied that she's a bad mother," Hermione explained patiently. Why couldn't men see that it was a very big issue for women? "I bet that set her off."

"Gee, I didn't think of that."

"Obviously!" Jasmine said.

Geo shrugged. "Oh well, I'll just have to remind her I'm Mr Magic Hands. Jasmine, could you please fetch my princess for me?"

"I'd better go with you and get Buttercup, too," Gudrun said, and made to follow Jasmine upstairs.

"Mama, can't we stay a little longer?" Rachel pleaded.

"What about dinner, sweetie?"

"Aunt Heidi won't mind if we eat here, do you, Aunt Heidi?" Rachel asked, rounding on Heidi.

"What are you having?" Gudrun asked Heidi.

"I promised the boys I'd make chocolate-chip pancakes."

"Are you sure you want to risk giving the kids an evening sugar rush?" Gudrun asked.

"It's intentional. I promised Robert we'd do some stargazing tonight. It'll help him stay awake."

"It's not a very good time. The moon's nearly full, and the night's going to be cloudy," Hermione pointed out.

"So I've told him, but he won't release me from my promise."

"I want to see the _moon_. I want to see where my mother is," Robert said vehemently, causing a painful silence among the adults, which was thankfully broken by Jasmine's return.

"Here she is," Jasmine said, passing the sleepy child to her father. Little Naomi squealed happily when she saw him, and reached up to grab his ears.

"Well, I still have a fairly powerful telescope from my school days, since I took Advanced Astronomy. It's charmed for use in all weather conditions, and it can pierce cloud-cover. Would you like me to bring it over?" Geo offered.

"Cool!" Robert said brightly. "Can he, Aunt Heidi?"

"Of course, _liebschen_," Heidi replied kindly.

"Can I watch the moon with Robert, Mummy?" Rachel asked.

Gudrun broke down laughing, and it took her nearly a full minute to recover, with her daughter looking at her as if she'd gone mad. "You want to watch the moon with Robert, do you?" She looked up at the adults. "Oh my, she can't even wait for her teens to watch the moon with Robert."

Heidi, Jasmine and Hermione sniggered.

"Why are you being so silly, Mummy?" Rachel asked, completely bewildered by her mother's behaviour.

"Never mind, sweetie. I'm just babbling," Gudrun replied. Then she turned to Heidi. "Do you have enough to feed me and my brood?"

"I have enough for an army."

"All right. Then I'll go back home and change. I'll be right back," Gudrun said, before striding out of the side door towards her own home.

Geo called his son to him, and the Ramos family left _The Wolfes' Den_ as well. They lived directly behind Ron and Hermione, against the wall that connected the third and fourth tiers of the city, so it wasn't a far walk. In fact, that particular section of Concordia was turning into a Ranger enclave.

The Montoya family lived next to the Ramos family, behind Danielle Esklove—soon to be Danielle Hillman—and her fiancé, who had moved into the house between Ron and Hermione's and Harry and Ginny's two months ago. And three weeks ago, Eilis Duff and Magnus Brody, who got to know each other in a different light at her older sister and his younger brother's wedding in March, had moved into the house on the _other_ side of Harry and Ginny's, and directly opposite _The_ _Wolfes' Den_.

The doorbell rang again, and the mirror monitor showed Charlie standing at the door, clutching a broomstick. He'd passed an exam upon turning ten, allowing him to participate in Concordia's aerial traffic, albeit at a lower altitude that was reserved for broomsticks and carpets, and excluded heavy flying chariots.

Jasmine opened the door to allow her son in.

"Hi, Mum… Aunt Hermione."

"Hey, Charlie. How was your day?" Jasmine asked.

"You'll never guess what happened. Nicolai and Mary were attacked by a swarm of Doxies! They were at the edge of the forest, and a pair of stupid blokes came running out of the forest with a whole swarm of Doxies behind them—they disturbed a few nests. And Nicolai was awesome! He got rid of most of the Doxies with some great charms, but he concentrated on protecting Mary and some other people too much, so he still got a few dozen bites and he passed out because of it." Charlie took a deep breath before continuing. "We took him to the House of Healing on David Golan's carpet, and they sent him home after cleaning the wounds and giving him the antidote. The Healer said that someone ought to stay with Nicolai because the antidote might give him a fever as it deals with the venom in his body. Nicolai was home alone, because Mr Ironheart, his wife, and Nicolai's mum are on vacation, so Mary's staying with him. She told me to give Aunt Gudrun the message because no one answered the mirror when she called home."

"Well, Gudrun will be here in a minute. You can give her the message then."

Heidi suddenly giggled. "Nicolai and Mary, home alone. Knowing Mary, I wouldn't be surprised if she tries to use this as an excuse to sleep over. This could be trouble."

"I'm sure they'll take advantage of the extra privacy to do some things that kids their age will inevitably do, but Nicolai knows that Mary isn't ready for the step towards full intimacy yet. He's far too mature to do anything stupid."

"Hermione, we've both_ felt _how he can affect women, and he was only eleven back then."

"I wasn't as badly affected as _you_," Hermione said, blushing furiously. She'd been exposed to Nicolai wearing only his swimming trunks, with his gangly yet muscled upper body exposed for all women to behold. Many of the women present, herself included, had quickly waded into the lake to cool off, and to hide some of the more visible effects their thin bathing suits were betraying. Ron still reminded her of it every chance he got.

"True, but you weren't ovulating either," Heidi said in her own defense. "It made me more susceptible."

"That's true," Hermione conceded. She knew that a woman was more vulnerable to the effects of incubus pheromone during that time. "Anyway. Nicolai has learnt how to control his pheromones since then, so Mary's not at risk."

Moments later, the communications mirror shimmered, showing that someone was calling. Heidi answered it, and Charlie Senior's freckled face appeared. "Hey, Heidi. Is Jasmine there?"

His wife moved to Heidi's side. "I'll be right home, Charlie."

"Oh, all right. See you in a minute, then," Charlie nodded, and his face vanished again.

A minute later, Heidi and Hermione were the only adults left. The younger children were playing on the floor, while Charlie Jr had gone to the courtyard to wait for Gudrun. Hermione checked her watch, wondering why Ron hadn't called her from home yet.

"May I use the mirror?" she asked Heidi.

"Really, Hermione, as if you still need to ask."

"Well, it's the polite thing to do," Hermione said. Then she faced the mirror. "Number Eight, Abaris Lane!"

The mirror shimmered, but Ron didn't appear on the other side. It was possible that Ron had chosen to finish some work at the Citadel, so she called there instead, hoping to find out more.

"Order of Illumin—oh, hey Hermione," the witch at the other end said. It was Damayanti Kapoor, an Indian Intelligence Analyst who had joined the Order shortly after the battles at Agua Caliente and Laketown. "A moment while I secure the transmission." The mirror's surface briefly flashed red, before she nodded. "Go ahead."

"I'm calling to see if Ron's still there."

Damayanti worked some controls outside the screen for a few moments. "Yes, he's with Captain Kovalenko. There is no 'do not disturb' signal on her mirror, so I suppose I could re-route the transmission to her office. Should I patch you through?"

Hermione briefly thought about it before consenting. The mirror again shimmered briefly, before Captain Kovalenko's face appeared. "Aha, Hermione. You're wondering why Ron is late?"

"Yes."

"An urgent matter came up a few minutes ago," the captain said gravely. "Still, I won't keep Ron here for long. He'll be at home in less than two hours."

"Go on and have dinner without me," Ron's voice echoed.

"Fine, but get home so your daughters can see your face today."

Captain Kovalenko smiled. "I'll do my best to send him home as quickly as possible."

"Thanks, Captain. Sever connection!" Hermione said, and Captain Kovalenko's face promptly disappeared to be replaced by Hermione's own reflection. She heaved a sigh, because she didn't feel like cooking if Ron wouldn't be home in time for dinner. She turned to Heidi. "Did you mean it when you said you had enough to feed an army?"

"With possible sleepovers, I always make sure I have more than enough."

"Are Richard and Holly sleeping over tonight?" Hermione asked. It was a possibility, since Harry was out on a mission, and Ginny's shift ended at midnight. At times, when Ron and Hermione found themselves in the position with one of them being out of town, and the other, or both of them, working a later shift, they too allowed the children to sleep over.

"Yes. Ginny doesn't want to wake them up in the middle of the night. She'll pick them up in the morning. Will you stay for dinner?"

"Why not."

* * *

A brutal murder had taken place in a sleepy Japanese wizarding village. It had been done in full view of dozens of witnesses who had begun with a futile attempt to save the victim by stunning the attacker. A volley of nine stunners failed to penetrate the attacker's defenses. Then, before their eyes, what had looked to be a harmless old Japanese witch, slowly began to transform into a younger European one. Some of the witnesses recognised her face from law enforcement posters, at which point they ceased trying to stop her attacker from continuing his torture.

No one had recognised the attacker, because a hooded cloak had been covering him, obscuring his face and build. He'd been between six-foot-two and six-foot-four tall, and the fact that he'd been able to shrug off the volley of hexes narrowed the possible suspects down to one wizard.

"I've never seen anything like it," Kozminski said, while he examined the corpse through a pair of specialised magical goggles. "It resembles the Cruciatus up to a certain point, but it's much more gruesome. It must have required a lot of raw power, too."

"How does the curse work?" Matt Kelly asked.

"It destroys tissue, but it leaves nerves intact, forcing the victim to feel agonising pain. The Cruciatus Curse may cause inflammation of the area where the curse struck, or some internal damage if maintained for a long time. This curse's primary purpose is to cause physical damage, sparing the pain receptors. So the pain won't stop, even when the curse is lifted. It also impedes the release of endorphins, and I'm seeing extremely high levels of adrenaline, which suggests that she was terrified, and completely aware until the second she died. Since a person subjected to such agony often passes out from the pain, I have to assume that the curse also keeps its target conscious." Kozminski pushed the goggles onto his forehead, looking decidedly queasy. "He started on her limbs, gradually working his way to the more vital parts of her body. The purpose was to keep her alive and in pain as long as possible."

Matt groaned. "Bloody hell, he's invented a new Unforgivable."

Harry closed his eyes, feeling sick too, and quickly opened them again when he realised that the darkness beneath his eyelids only worsened his nausea. Instead, he picked a random spot on the sidewalk to stare at.

He had trouble believing that Wolfe had invented a curse that made the Cruciatus look like a Tickling Charm. It wasn't Medea Aconit's gruesome death that troubled him, but the fact Wolfe must have dabbled very deeply in the Dark Arts to conceive the curse he had employed.

"Hey Gavin, any clue as to where he went?" Matt asked.

Harry looked up and saw Gavin approaching, followed by Hiroshi Nohara, a wizard native to Japan, and one of the Order of Illumination's Intel field operatives.

Nohara had joined the Order nearly five years ago, and had returned to Japan shortly after the completion of his training to assist Gavin on monitoring criminal activities in the Japanese wizarding Empire. A few months ago, during a brief stopover in Japan, Harry had met his family. He was married to Misae, a Muggle-born witch who could change from a happy housewife into the physical embodiment of vengeance in the blink of an eye, and had a son named Shinnosuke, often referred to as Shin-chan.

The boy, who was about Richard's age, seemed prone to taking off his clothes and parading around naked, lighting his mother's short fuse every time he did so. For some odd reason he was also lecherous, ogling attractive young females and making suggestive remarks. At first Harry thought the toddler had got in the way of some behaviour-altering curse, but upon meeting Nohara's father—who looked like an older version of his grandson—Harry had concluded that it was probably a rare and hereditary magical affliction.

"He vanished without a trace," Gavin said gloomily. "He _did_ leave an interesting message in the Village Square, though. Want to have a look?"

Harry nodded.

"I'm taking the body back for some more tests," Kozminski said, as he planted a Portkey on the body. Moments later, he was gone, and Harry and Matt followed Gavin to the village square, where some Japanese kanji burned about six feet in the air.

"We tried to remove it, but it seems as permanent as a Gubraithian fire," Gavin said.

"What does it mean?" Matt asked.

"'A fog cannot be dispelled by a fan,'" Nohara said. "It is a proverb. The fog will only lift when the weather clears up."

It was a warning to Yamato, who had probably tried to stop Wolfe on several occasions. "In other words, when Yamato is dead."

Gavin nodded grimly. "Exactly."

Harry drew his wand and slashed across the glyphs, which resisted the erasing spell for a moment, before finally dissolving into nothingness. He had a feeling that the message had been meant for him as well.

"We will alert you in case we find something that could point towards Wolfe's whereabouts," Nohara said.

"Thanks," Harry said, although he knew that Wolfe wouldn't have left any clues if he didn't want to be found. Then he activated his personal Portkey, which brought him to the Cruiser.

He reappeared inside a designated Apparition circle of the cargo-bay, and quickly stepped away to make room for Matt, who appeared a second later.

Kozminski was there, securing a preservation casket to the floor with some netting. Rachel Esklove's lower body was poking out of an open maintenance hatch in the inner bulkhead. An acrid smell wafted out of the aperture, so Harry rendered himself intangible to see what was going on.

Rachel shrieked as he appeared above her, and dropped her wand, which clattered out of reach. With some wand-less magic, Harry levitated it back to her. "Sorry about that. What seems to be wrong?"

"We have a ruptured conduit."

"How did that happen?"

"Chizpurfles gnawed through it."

"Aren't there supposed to be charms to detect and repel them?"

"There are. But they failed about three weeks ago, when a _certain someone_ passed through the power core while floating between decks, disabling some of the minor charms, like vermin detection and repelling. Anyway, no one noticed, since the diagnostic charms were also partially damaged."

Harry winced. He had dropped in for a surprise visit with Ginny, who had been performing some maintenance checks on the Cruiser. "Sorry. Am I doing any damage _now_?"

"Nah! You can pass through any part of the ship—_just not the power core_. We discovered the failure last week, and the new guy, Akram, had to reinforce the charms. But by then, the Cruiser had already been infested for about a week. Plenty of time for the critters to burrow into the conduit's tubes, where they would be impossible to detect."

"How did the Chizpurfles get aboard?"

"I think it was the Egyptian ambassador's Kneazle."

"So, what are you going to do?"

"Replace this part of the potion conduit and limp back home. I've checked out the rest of the conduits the hard way, with V.E.G.'s. The infestation is still localised, so we can make it home easily enough. Then we'll have to drain all the potion out of the conduits and tanks, and eradicate the pest properly. We'll have to take another Cruiser, because continuing the patrol in this one would be playing Russian Roulette."

Harry smiled. Maybe he'd have enough time to visit Ginny and the kids briefly.

"Yes, you'll get the chance to see Ginny and your children," Rachel said, reading his expression.

"Ah, Rachel, what would we do without the talented witches of the Artificing Division?"

"You'd be in a lot of trouble."

"Is there any way I could repay your efforts?"

"Yeah. Convince Kelly that sometimes birth-control is a good thing."

"Hey, Buttercup was an accident," Matt protested from the other side of the bulkhead. "And get your head out of there, Harry. Seeing you standing like that is bizarre."

"Then don't look," Harry replied.

Rachel grinned up at him and rolled her eyes.

"How long is this going to take?"

"An hour."

"Ah, but you mean half an hour, don't you?" Ginny had told him about how the Artificers always gave generous estimations, so that they'd seem like miracle workers when they got the job done in half the time.

Rachel raised an eyebrow. "Did your wife tell you that?"

Harry nodded.

"She wasn't supposed to. It's our division's most sacred secret. And speaking of secrets, I've heard some rumours that Ironheart's grandkid is going to join the Order in a limited role, until he's legally an adult."

"Nicolai?"

"Yeah. It seems that he knows how to build a new ship that doesn't need potion to keep it going. If he can actually build it, it would save us loads of maintenance time. Heck, maybe he'll even find a solution for the control problems we can't seem to solve with the mech. Now stop distracting me, or it really _will_ take me an hour to get this done."

"_You're_ the one who began to gossip," Harry countered.

"I'm a woman. It's my right—as is changing my mind."

On the other side of the bulkhead, Matt laughed. "She's got you there, mate."

* * *

**Fragarach**: LOL. No, there won't be a wizarding Count Ruegen who kills Captain Montoya.

**Athena McGonagall**: I won't get too philosophical, but many justice systems are actually based on the concept of revenge. Okay, retribution is a better word, but it still comes down to the same thing. The only differenece is that governments have taken it out of the hands of individuals.

**Numba1**: Harry's at a stage in his life that could be equated with the feeling that many Europeans had in the interbellum between WW I and WW II. Avoid war at all costs (even if it meant selling out Sudetenland. Because of his past experiences, Harry is emotionally selling out his own Sudetenland. See what I'm getting at?

**mrsean**: See previous answer, and this issue _will _come back in a later chapter. :-)

**Chloe Black**: Your plea was partially responsible fornthe early post.

**Kristus Veranus**: Actually, no. The parts about harted clouding judgement and mastery over life and death come from my limited knowledge of philosophy. George Lucas, JRR Tolkien and I probably got them from the same sources.

**Gogirl**: accepts hug And you get one point, since you're the first one to mention the Princess Bride reference. ;-)

**LadySiri**: I don't recall any innocent people dying because of Harry. That was Harry's evil clone.

**bane**: It's good to be back.

**Tosca**: A fan of The Princess Bride. Why yes! How could you tell? ;-)

**Lord Dreanault**: 'Only you could make the future of a character look so bleak in a first chapter. . .' Gee, thanks.

**Linnet Gryffin**: I hope to hear more from you after you've caught up.

**Ryoko Tenchi**: I'll kill Ginny if I feel like it. Lucky for you, I don't feel like doing it anytime soon. evil grin

**darkguyver**: It was supposed to be dark.

**Kari Lynn Cortez**: Foxfur made a reasonable guess about Chapter 1. Now there has been a jump in time again.

**Annison**: You didn't like the The Princess Bride references??? How could you _not_ like it? ;-) Okay, I see what you mean. It kind of broke the dark mood of the chapter, but that was the whole point.

**Gridley**: These names are pretty much the only Princess Bride references.

**Foxfur**: Okay, you weren't the first to mention Princess Bride, but you get a point anyway for accurately guessing the timeframe.

**Prozac**: I hope you do review more often. I know it is considered impoliteb to ask, but Union hasn unfortunately proven that quite a few people don't review if you don't get on your kness and beg for it. :-(

**nycgal**: Ron and Hermione only had Raina in chapter 1, but now they also have Christine. Harry and Ginny have _Richard_ (shame on you) and Holly, and Charlie and Jasmine have Charlie Jr _and_ Rose. (double shame on you, since she was already there in _Union_) And as of Chapter 2, Matt and Gudrun have five kids.

**harryronherm09**: I'm sorry you fell that way.

**Bluerain**: Gee, you haven't seen The Princess Bride???

**Jake**: I rather ejoy it too.

**NCDSbookworm**: Remus Lupin? Unfortunately very few of the cannon characters outside Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione, will feature prominently in this fic. But I'll do my best. Regarding the timeframe, if the story is read carefully enough one can always know the timeframe. I _do_ hide it away in the chapter, but that's because I want to stimulate careful reading.

**aznanarchy**: Ah, one point to you for recognising the Greek mythology reference, and its connection to the character. All Galatea's brothers and sisters have mythological names. Perse, Thetis, Jason, and Calypso.

**charming karma 23**: I hope I'll be seeing you more often. Thanks for the review.

**ObsessedwithSnuffles**: Tears? Good! Mission accomplished.

**Velocity**: Don't worry. I will be Harry and Wolfe's POV's with a clump of Ginny and an occasional pinch of Ron and Hermione.


	3. The Saint and the Stork

Chapter 3

**The Saint and the Stork**

Wolfe briefly stopped his trek up the hill to turn around and take in the scenic view of the city, where the more affluent dwelled. It was much closer to the slums than in most cases, enabling the honest ones among the poor to eke out a meagre living by providing cheap labour for the rich. The dishonest ones joined or formed gangs, preying on the rich who occasionally got careless and dwelled too close to the slum territory, but more often they preyed on the other _faveladors_.

Rio de Janeiro, like most third world cities, was experiencing a continued, rapid increase in population. This increase came mostly in the form of the rural poor migrating to the cities. Because of the high land values and the enormous demand for space, these people were forced into squatter settlements, known as _favelas_, named after the location of the first such settlement, the hill Morro de Favela.

The most notorious of these slums were built along the hillsides. From a dwelling's location within the _favela_, and the type of material used in its making, Wolfe could make educated guesses as to how long their inhabitants had lived there. Usually the first settled near the bottom of the hills. As time went by, the hill filled upwards. Since there was no rent to be paid, the money the people painstakingly saved was used to purchase stronger materials such as brick and cinderblocks. These were used to solidify the primitive structures, which were primarily made of a mixture of sand and clay, wood, and sheet metal.

Though there was much variation between the _favelas_, there was one constant, namely the shortage of utilities. Some _favelas_ had better access to utilities owing to their location, but regardless of that, all were below standard access.

Wolfe saw a pair of small children, the eldest being no older than Henry, struggle with a plastic jerrycan filled with water as they followed their mother, who couldn't be much older than Mary Kelly. To get some relatively clean water, they had visited a water main the squatters had tapped into. It ran close to the _favela_, but it was located at the bottom of the hill, creating an incredibly difficult journey for those who lived near the top. Several journeys a day were sometimes needed to gain enough for a household, and these children were at the end of their strength.

A pungent odour, caused by the absence of another important utility, had forced Wolfe to shut off his sense of smell, which rivalled a bloodhound's. Only about half of the _faveladors_ had access to an indoor toilet facility. From these facilities, sewage ran through open ditches, eventually ending up at street-level and becoming an incredible health hazard. He wondered how the stray dogs he occasionally came across could withstand the smell of garbage and sewage. Some of the garbage was being incinerated on the hill, causing noxious fumes to blow through the settlement when the wind turned, and creating risk for the fire spreading among the houses, since safety wasn't observed during these incinerations. Only Tetsuo Yamato could thrive in such a pit of human despair!

Wolfe's musings were interrupted when he heard a thump and a whimper. Turning around, he saw the jerrycan had slipped out of the children's sweaty palms. It got wedged between a pair of rocks in a very unfortunate position, and its precious contents gushed out onto the dirt path as the children struggled to right it. They succeeded only when it was mostly empty, and stared at the small amount of remaining fluid. Some people stopped to stare, but most just went about their business. Their mother trudged on, unaware of the children's predicament.

It presented Wolfe with an interesting dilemma. Should he help the children, or not? The longer it took to pinpoint the location of the entrance to Yamato's lair, the greater the chances that Yamato would find Wolfe first. He hadn't even risked using Polyjuice Potion, and the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes' Portuguese Language-Lollipop, which would have allowed him to interact with the locals, if necessary. Yamato was as gifted as he was evil, and if anyone could construct devices that could pick up even the subtle magic induced by potions or magical sweets, it was Yamato.

Then there was the matter of his disguise. Aside from having grown a beard and wearing fake glasses, his chosen garb was the Benedictine monks' black robe. Thus disguised, he could hardly walk away from children in need. If Yamato relied on spies, they might notice his un-monk-like behaviour and report to their boss. There was nothing for it. He told himself that he had to help the children, in the interest of keeping a low profile.

He only knew standard Portuguese phrases, so he pointed at the jerrycan and the water with a questioning look. As the eldest child answered him, he was able to draw enough information from his mind to be able to find the source. He picked the picked both children up, easily carrying one of them on each arm as he descended the hill. Children their age rarely weighed much, and this boy and his little sister were undernourished. They weighed less than his backpack.

They arrived at their destination in one-fifth the time it would have taken the children to get there by themselves. The soil around the water pipe had been removed, and a few taps had been clumsily welded to the main pipe. One of them had fallen off, allowing water to pour out of the hole. Even though people constantly replaced empty buckets beneath the leak, vast quantities of water had still escaped and formed a fairly large artificial pool a dozen metres away. A few children stood up to their chests in the muddy water, splashing around. But it was mostly used to do laundry.

There were rows of people waiting to get their water, and to Wolfe's annoyance, a young nun was there too. She had been bandaging an injured boy, stopping when she noticed his presence. Wolfe considered putting the children down and disappearing, but her curiosity had been raised, and she'd probably try to find him, asking around as she did so. That was the last thing he needed.

He pulled the brim of his hood even further over his face, making it hard to see. Maybe she'd understand that gesture and leave him alone. But it was clearly not to be, for she closed her old-fashioned doctor's bag and made her way over to him. She stepped in front of him and peered up his hood. She had a rather attractive face for a nun, and in these surroundings she was even more conspicuous than he was. Her sweaty skin was fair, and her eyes chocolate brown. Her hair was completely covered by her head-dress, but her eyebrows suggested a dirty-blonde or light-brown colouring. She reminded him of Heidi.

"_Só falo um pouco de português_. _Fala Inglês_?" he asked. Brushing up on his knowledge of Catholic religious orders had been easier than learning the Portuguese language in a few days would have been, so he opted to make it clear that he wasn't native. He guessed that she was a Dominican nun from one of the Catholic schools in the city.

"I have been well educated by a Maryknoll sister," she said, eyeing him suspiciously. "I wondered what a Benedictine monk is doing in the favela, instead of contemplating in a chapel, or working in a garden."

"Worshipping the Lord with by the sweat of one's brow can be done in other ways besides working the fields and gardens, as you yourself demonstrate." Wolfe replied evenly. "As you very well know, the Benedictines are more diverse than that. Right now, I am helping two children who spilled their water farther up the hill."

"Where are you from?"

"New Jersey," Wolfe said, remembering the Newark Abbey. "I'm visiting some brethren here, and in Sao Paolo. And you, _Sister_?" he asked, emphasising her title in the hopes of reminding her that she'd been forgetting to address him properly.

Her cheeks got a pink tinge on them. "I teach history, Brother."

Wolfe decided to press his advantage, now that he had her on the defence. "So what is a history teacher doing in the _favela_, bandaging and treating the poor and needy? Are you aware of how dangerous it is here?"

"I know how dangerous it is, but I have an obligation to these people to help them … as well as an obligation to God," she added quickly, though Wolfe sensed that there was more to it than that. A peek into her mind unearthed some very surprising information. He'd believed her to be a woman from the upper class, but she had been born in that _favela_. He didn't have time to pry any further because of her continued questioning. "But what is an American Benedictine monk doing in a _favela_ in Rio de Janeiro, when his local brethren are not known to venture here?"

"You have a special connection with these people, haven't you?" Wolfe said, trying to get her off balance with his knowledge. "One wouldn't think it by looking at you, but you've lived here, haven't you?"

He felt a wave of her bitterness wash over him as his words struck home. "One _would_ _not_ think it to look at me. My mother was from the _favela_. She was considered fortunate. She found a job as a nanny for a rich family, because she was beautiful. It was not long until she attracted the attention of my half-siblings' father, and when she was with child, she was chased away with threats to her life. She had nowhere else to go, so she came back to the _favela_. It was my home, but since I look like my father, I was—"

"Conspicuous?" Wolfe suggested, as she struggled to find the right word.

"Yes, conspicuous. My mother did everything she could to send me to the nuns before I blossomed into womanhood and attracted the attention of the lechers who rape young girls."

Wolfe could see why. She had obviously taken after her father's family, a trait that would have made her stand out and attract all sorts of unwanted attention. "Be not bitter and angry at the man who has wronged your mother."

"You have much insight, Brother," she replied, impressed at his ability to read her moods.

They were next in line for the water, and Wolfe put the children down. He took the opportunity to remove the hood from his head and wiped his sticky face with a handkerchief. The humidity here wasn't as bad as the worst he'd ever experienced, in the jungle west of Manaus. But it was still bad enough to be extremely annoying, and his chosen garb didn't exactly help.

He offered her another handkerchief for her face, but she declined, helping his young charges fill their jerrycan with water instead. He noticed that it didn't have a lid, which increased the chance of accidental spills. He doubted that Yamato had very powerful detectors this far out, so a little bit of wand-less magic to conjure a cork would be indistinguishable from magic performed by wizards in the city, or possibly a young Muggle-born inhabitant of the _favela_. In the latter case, Yamato might even send someone out to investigate—in the hopes of capturing the Muggle-born wizard child and bending him to his will—which would allow Wolfe to pull the lair's location from his mind and speed up his search.

He took a good look at the side of the container's opening. Then, sticking his hand in the wide sleeve of his robe, he concentrated. Half a heartbeat later, a cork materialised in his hand, and he jammed it into the opening when the children were done.

"Could you ask the children where they live, so I can take them there?"

The nun nodded and asked the children. The eldest replied with by waving his hand in a general direction, not taking his eye off the full jerrycan. The boy was afraid that they might steal the water, even though they were clergy, or dressed as clergy, in Wolfe's case.

Wolfe picked up the younger child again. "I think he's worried that we'll take the water for ourselves. Tell him I'll carry the water for him."

After the boy had been convinced that they could be trusted, he led them back up the hill towards his home. During the journey, the nun slipped on a muddy rock and was saved by a nasty fall by Wolfe. He grabbed her around her waist to steady her, letting her go when her feet had found firm purchase. She quickly pulled away, her face beet-red. She had felt his toned physique under his clothes when she fell against him. He could tell that she was regretting her vows of celibacy a little.

When they were nearly there, the children's frantic mother rushed over to them and practically ripped her daughter out of Wolfe's arm. The nun quickly calmed her down by explaining that they had helped the children get new water, and the teenager calmed down a little, finally thanking them for their help.

"So, Brother, now that the children have been aided, what are you going to do?"

"Share my compassion further up the hill."

"I will accompany you," she said. She was determined to find out more about the very fit monk she had met.

Wolfe bit back a groan. The last thing he needed was a nun following him around like a lovesick puppy. It was bad enough that he'd tainted the thoughts of a nun, even though it had been beyond his control.

Any thoughts on how to persuade her that it wasn't a good idea eluded him. Obliviation was out of the question, since he needed his wand for that. To make matters worse, his thoughts were interrupted by an alarming screech emanating out of a woman's throat. She headed straight towards him and grabbed the collar of his robes, rattling rapid Portuguese.

"Oh no, we have to leave this place. Death-squads are raiding the neighbourhood!"

Wolfe frowned. It was unfortunately a common occurrence. Those death-squads had been commissioned to hunt down drug dealers and petty criminals. The drug dealers he could care less about. But most of the petty criminals in the _favela_, however, had resorted to crime to feed their families, and didn't deserve to die. It would be easy enough to jam the weapons they were carrying, but that would require magic in such quantities that it would guarantee his being detected. He had to retreat now, and come back for Yamato later.

He and the nun followed a group of fleeing people who were trying to get to the other side of the hill. But it soon became evident that the raiders had taken care to surround the hill properly before moving in. Masked vigilantes carrying handguns, rifles, and even a few machine guns, appeared from between the shabby shacks, their eyes alight with anticipation. These executioners were faithless men. They had to be, because even though people rationalised that they _faveladors_ were nothing but a plague, it wasn't enough of a rationalisation for more decent minds to do this sort of work, though way too many minds still _condoned_ these atrocities because of that philosophy.

The nun sagged against him, trembling like a leaf. Wondering why she was so afraid, he looked into her mind and saw the reason. These men had killed a nun before, though the official story had been that the 'ungrateful mongrels' of the _favela_ had robbed and killed her. But nobody had believed that story, since the death-squads had never been beneath killing witnesses to avoid complications. And ever since the day that one of her Sisterhood had been executed, work in the _favelas_ had been suspended, as it was deemed too dangerous. No one knew that she was there, and they wouldn't miss her for a while.

Wolfe weighed his options quickly. The easiest solution would be to Disapparate. However, that would break the ban of the Statute of Wizarding secrecy, and he wasn't sure whether the men would be shocked enough by his sudden disappearance to abort their murderous mission. He could also stand and fight them without his wand, but he knew that Yamato's means of detection would easily pick up the resulting surge of magical energy. Either way, he would be detected, and finding Yamato's lair would be a waste of time. He told himself that he might as well help these people, now that secrecy was no longer an issue.

He knew he could kill these men easily, but doing so wouldn't offer the people of the _favela_ safety in the long run. It would probably cause a larger group of executioners to come back with better weapons. The best way out would be a form of passive resistance that would scare the living daylights out of the gunmen.

He had to do something that made more of a statement than a bunch of heads rolling down the hill, back towards the siege cordon. He needed some of them alive and able to squawk. And while the Brazilian Ministry of Magic would probably try to undo his handiwork, he knew that the Rangers would be there first, trying to catch him. He hoped that they would realise that in this case, it would be better to leave the Muggles' memories intact. Wolfe knew that the killing would start again, but a myth of the miraculous protection of the _faveladors_ might at least serve as a temporary deterrent for future death-squad raids.

He turned to the sister and grabbed her hand. "I need you to translate while I reason with these gentlemen."

"No use," she mumbled feebly.

"Trust me. I can end this without bloodshed. What do you have to lose?" he said, leading her to the gunman who seemed to be in charge. "Tell him that the Lord won't allow anyone to be killed."

Stammering, she relayed the message, which only brought mocking laughter from the gunmen.

Grinning broadly, Wolfe wondered how long the laughter would endure. It didn't matter that they wouldn't understand a word of what he was about to say. He just needed line-of-sight to the weapons.

"No one will die," he said, while he concentrated on the weapons of the men in front of him. His calm manner had given the nun some confidence, and bravely repeated his words, until she saw the men's weapons fly out of their hands. Wolfe turned around as quickly as he could, disarming all the gunmen. When he'd summoned all the weapons into his mental grasp, he banished them as far away as he could. Though he'd never tested his limits, he knew they'd fly for at least a mile.

Their eyes widened with fear as they beheld the wizardry, and they screamed in terror as they too were lifted off the ground, one by one, clearing the way for the people of the _favela_. He held the gunmen about twenty-three feet above the ground, while he looked for relevant information in their frightened minds. Aside from the prayers for their own miserable lives, several of them cursed their employer. Now Wolfe knew whom he had to visit in order to discourage future raids. He told himself that it wouldn't take too much time away from his quest, and that he needed to vent his fury on the man responsible for Yamato's escape anyway. Wolfe also found out that one of them was a first-timer, and was begging off his punishment by vowing that he would never again hurt another soul if he was spared. Wolfe decided he could use that to his advantage.

"Lead the people to a safe place away from here. Tell them that no one is to touch these men. If they do, no one will believe what happened here," Wolfe told the nun. He wasn't being charitable towards the men. Rather, he knew that the Muggles would dismiss the 'miracles' as lies if they found the men beaten to death by the angry _faveladors_. "After that, follow your heart to your proper path in life. You're a good person, but your spirit is far too impetuous for you to be a nun."

He waited until the _faveladors_ were at a safe distance before he dispelled the levitation. He felt grim satisfaction as he heard bones crunching and snapping as the men hit the ground. Maybe some of them wouldn't survive the twenty-three-foot drop to tell the tale, but he couldn't care less. He let the one without any deaths on his conscience descend gently, and looked him in the eyes meaningfully. Fortunately, the man immediately realised why he had been spared.

Then, playing on the Muggles' superstition, he changed into a white dove and flew off.

X

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X

_To the surprise of many, the Brazilian Ministry of Magic did not Obliviate the Muggles who witnessed these various acts of Magic. Speaking to reporters at a special conference, the Minister for Magic unveiled the reason why._

_'The magic witnessed by the Muggles ended up stopping a brutal mass execution by scaring the executioners out of their wits, and causing them considerable physical harm. We felt that allowing this rumour to spread would give the unfortunate Muggles targeted by the killings a reprieve. It is an enlightened and compassionate decision,' said Minister Carvalho de Sousa._

_When asked if he was concerned about Muggles finding out the truth, he allayed the magical community's fear in the following statement. _

_'Muggles have inaccurate memories and very vivid imaginations. At this moment there are several versions of the occurrence already, and there will be many more tomorrow. The Muggles who witnessed the magic believe that Saint Anthony of Padua interceded on their behalf, as does one of the aggressors who was spared for a mysterious reason. Yet as the news spreads, details of the events will be altered and embellished upon. The wizard's garb is already debated upon, and the Animagus form of the unknown wizard (which was in fact a white dove) has been said to be a black raven, a parrot, or a toucan, according to some. Still others gave a ridiculous description of a Phoenix. Along with the scepticism our explanation of hallucinatory chemicals being released by the trash incineration on the hill will cause, the rest of the Muggle community_—

Rolling his eyes, Harry folded up his copy of the _Concordian Chronicle_, which had also published the story of Wolfe's little spectacle in Brazil two days ago. Of course, the Minister—one of the people who had tentatively supported Anastasiou, but whom Ironheart had allowed to retain his position in case the Order ever needed to force its will upon the Ministry—had taken full credit for the 'enlightened and compassionate' decision, even though Harry had been forced to twist his arm with a little blackmail. But waving the dirt from the Minister's dealings with Anastasiou under the Minister's nose had brought him around to the Order's way of thinking quickly enough.

And of course, there was absolutely no mention of the Rangers unearthing Yamato's lair—which had shown signs of hasty and recent evacuation—inside the hill. Yamato had probably been alerted by the surge in Wolfe's magical energy, and fled.

Even though the interviews had been assigned to the native Brazilian Rangers and the Intelligence Rangers who knew Portuguese, Harry had found a way to participate as well. Disguised by Polyjuice Potion, and with the aid of a Language Lollipop that had enabled him to speak Portuguese, he had interviewed several of the witnesses. The Language Lollipop only allowed a person to _speak_ a language, but by reading their minds when they answered his questions, Harry had been able to get the answers he needed.

His conversation with a nun had been particularly enlightening. Ironically enough, she—of all the ones who had witnessed the death-squad members being lifted into the sky and smacked down again by the 'hand of God'—didn't believe that Wolfe had been Saint Anthony. This was mainly because Saint Anthony, a Portuguese saint, would have been able to speak Portuguese, or a divine language that could be understood by all. Instead, Wolfe had relied on her to translate his English, which also told Harry that Wolfe had probably been too paranoid to use a Language Lollipop like Harry had when interviewing the witnesses. It had been a good decision, since one of the things Yamato had left lying abandoned had been a new kind of sensitive detection device that picked up very subtle spells and enchantments. It could even detect enchanted objects with very faint auras, and it was sensitive enough to pierce the interference of the Order's best Confundus Amulets.

Another noteworthy detail had been Wolfe's profound impact on the nun, aside from making her heart hammer to a Samba beat when he'd held her close. She was more perceptive than most Muggles, and the look of concentration on Wolfe's face, and lack of prayer, had made her suspect that the levitating guns and people had been Wolfe's doing directly, rather than an extension of divine power. She had also noticed the sudden disappearances into dead end streets by Brazilian Ministry wizards who had been roaming around the _favela_, and unlike many other Muggles, she hadn't dismissed it as her imagination. In fact, Harry had linked that thought to the memory of a place, which Harry was fairly certain had been the Brazilian Ministry's visitors' entrance. But she knew that she'd end up in the nut house if she ever told anybody, so she'd kept quiet, and would continue to do so.

Lastly, there was the information that she'd yielded about how she had met Wolfe. He had been standing in line with two small children, waiting to get water to replenish the water they had spilled earlier. It had been an act of kindness. Knowing Wolfe, he had probably rationalised it as staying in character, but that didn't erase the fact that he still cared. Maybe they'd be able to lead him back into the light, eventually. Harry had grown increasingly worried as they found more and more dark wizards who had been tortured for information.

When analysing Wolfe's interrogation techniques, Ron had noticed that, instead of looking for information that could directly lead to Yamato, Wolfe had milked these wizards for _any_ information about illegal activity, no matter how irrelevant it was. Then, based on their limited knowledge of Wolfe's movements, he had deduced that Wolfe had created a web-like instead of a step-like profile of Yamato's activities that would help him predict Yamato's next move and whereabouts.

A very important bit of information, which the Order's analysts had initially overlooked, had been the fact that all the gangs in the slums had stopped their infighting for no apparent reason. If such a thing had happened in the dark wizarding community, alarms would have gone off immediately. But since it had concerned Muggles, no one had paid any attention to that development. Lo and behold, in Yamato's lair they had found some sort of magical maggot that appeared to have been bred to burrow into a victim's body and take over his mind—a cheap alternative to the parasitic personality.

Soft whispering on the other side of the master bedroom's door brought Harry's thoughts back to domestic life. He quickly flattened out on the bed and pretended that he was asleep, peering at the door through his eyelashes. The handle turned and the door slowly swung open, revealing Ginny carrying a tray laden with his breakfast. He also saw a thatch of messy black hair at the periphery of his vision.

Ginny placed the tray on the nightstand beside him and lifted their children onto the bed, and they immediately crawled towards him. Richard's small hand pushed his eyelid back, opening his left eye. He giggled. "Daddy, wake up."

He turned his eye towards Ginny, whom he hadn't deceived of course. She winked at him.

"Richie, what day is it today?"

"Daddy's bird-day!"

"That's right. Now let Mummy wake daddy up," Ginny said, as she sat down next to him on the edge of the bed. Then she bent down and softly kissed him on the lips. There was nothing quite like inhaling Ginny's soothing scent in the morning, and part of him regretted that his children were there too. One of Ginny's hands rested in his lap, and the sheet and his boxers did very little to conceal his thoughts. "We'll have plenty of time for that later," Ginny murmured, in apparent answer. "I'm dropping the kids off at Charlie and Jasmine's in about half an hour. They're throwing her a surprise party."

His wife's warm breath caressing his ear only made matters worse, and fuelled his impatience. He knew it was a bit selfish, but he couldn't wait for the kids to be gone. Due to their different timetables, it had been _weeks_, since—

"I'll kill him!" someone outside screamed. It sounded like Matt Kelly, and he sounded very, very upset.

Harry bounded off the bed and rushed to the window in Richard's room, which looked out onto the courtyard shared by Kelly's Keep and The Wolfes' Den. He saw a deathly pale Nicolai, with a defiant Mary standing in front of him in a protective stance. Gudrun, Heidi and Robert were hanging onto Matt's wand-arm, trying to prevent him from aiming at Nicolai.

Since Harry was only wearing a pair of boxers, he quickly summoned a pair of trousers and put them on. Then he slid open the window and jumped out, and as he soared across the street he heard Mary's challenge. "If you want to hex Nicolai, you'll have to hex me and your unborn grandchild first!"

Though flying was second nature to him, _second_ nature could still be disrupted if the person in question was caught by surprise, or shocked in some way. The implication of Mary's statement had been enough to accomplish that, and Harry promptly fell out of the sky, landing face-first in the courtyard's sandbox.

X

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X

**_Author's Note_**: I hate doing this—I know I ought to be happy with the reviews I got, and I _am_—but a 30% drop in reviews from Chapter 1 to Chapter 2 is worrisome, especially if I consider that I'm on the Author alert list of over many people. I guess expected more of a reaction to the invention of the brutal curse. Anyway, please R&R. Not every chapter needs to be reviewed, but it would be nice to at least leave one at the end of the fic.

I apologise for that shameful display of review-hunger, but I find a 30% drop quite demoralising. :-(

**Gogirl**: (You wrote: Ginny saw Richard's coming in Union just before she got wings, right?) :-) Funny that you mention that? This issue will come up again in chapter 7, I think.

**Bluerain**: You do that. ;-)

**Numba1**: Once all the children I plan to introduce are born, I'll post part of my writer's resource, which is list of all the Weasley and Ranger children complete with their dates of birth (Timeline derived from the Nearly Headless Nick theory) and the year that they'll start school.

**ObsessedwithSnuffles**: He's not _all_ psycho evil. Just as psycho evil as he needs to be.

**nycgal**: Thanks.

**Tosca**: Come on, have I ever been a predictable writer?

**LadySiri**: No, the way I see it, Cedric was Voldemort's fault, and only Voldemort's. Had Harry _known_ that the cup was a Portkey and that Voldemort would be waiting for him at the other side, _then_ Harry would have been to blame. Harry had no control over it whatsoever, so how can it be his fault? Honestly, saying that Harry is to blame for Cedric is ludicrous. It all comes down to Voldemort's desire to rule the world.

Now Sirius, on the other hand, I partially (but only a very small part) Harry's fault. In that situation he _could_ have thought things through better.

**Omacron**: What prevents you from making a list and mapping it out yourself? ;-) Anyway, I WILL post a character list and a family tree of the most important characters.

**NCDSbookworm**: Don't worry, the gore will come.

**Athena McGonagall**: I'm glad that you're willing to adapt to Heidi.

**Annison**: Hey, it wouldn't be a good HP fic without bits of canon in it.

**Daily Prophet Reporting**: Showing the domestic side of things was my primary goal. I'm glad it worked.

**pudadungding**: There wasn't a spell in that mighty arsenal to inflict pain, so… And don't worry, I won't focus on the kinds _that _much.

**aznanarchy**: Now there's an interesting thought. :-)

**Jake**: It really is a lot of names. Unfortunately they have to be mentioned.

**Fragarach**: Ah, you caught the Crayon Shin-chan reference? Point to you!

**Velocity**: I'm not sure about Hogwarts, but we will return to canon a canon location soon. BTW, I knew of Doxies _before_ OoTP.

**Chloe Black**: I'm sad to report that I'll be slowing down posting, but only for one chapter. Chapter 4 will be in two weeks. (June 12th instead of 8th)

**jynzx:** Draco got his head chopped off in MW, remember?

**Chelli Potter**: Yeah, bits and pieces of the intervening years will be revealed.


	4. Surprise

Chapter 4

**Surprise**

"Still, it was fortunate that _Mary_ was with him," Ironheart said, after having explained how Mary had got pregnant, or rather why neither Mary nor Nicolai had restrained themselves, eighteen days earlier. Someone must have alerted him, because he'd arrived on site shortly after Harry's fall.

It had also happened to Ironheart when he was in his teens, which was when the Healers' community had first made a certain discovery. As it turned out, the Doxy venom antidote had a curious and little-known side-effect on wizards with incubus blood—namely, it was a powerful aphrodisiac. It had stimulated Nicolai's pheromone emission to nearly that of a full-blood incubus. It had also raised Nicolai's testosterone to demonic levels, explaining why Nicolai hadn't exercised any restraint. He simply hadn't been able to!

"What do you mean, _fortunate_?" Matt shouted angrily, rising from the chair he'd been slumped in.

"If Mary hadn't been there, Nicolai would have gone out in search of the next best fertile female. What if it had been a married woman, for example? A family would have been ruined. Believe me, I'm speaking from personal experience. In my case, the next best available female was the school nurse. The poor woman's husband divorced her, and her children and grandchildren refused to speak to her until her she lay on her deathbed."

"Wait a minute. Wasn't Jasmine's father your firstborn?" Hermione asked.

Ironheart sighed sadly. "Mrs Deneuve miscarried. She was in her sixties at the time, and at the end of her childbearing days, so it wasn't really surprising."

"And her family _still_ gave her a hard time?" Jasmine asked.

Harry spat out the last bit of water he'd been gargling with into the Kelly's sink. He probed his mouth with his tongue, and was satisfied to feel that he'd finally washed away all the sand. If his self-preservation instincts hadn't kicked in at the last minute, triggering some protective charms, he'd have been lying in the Citadel's medical ward. "People are cruel."

Ironheart nodded. "That they are."

Matt groaned. "I turned thirty less than three months ago. I'm too young to be a grandfather."

"Stop worrying about yourself!" Gudrun admonished. "How is our daughter going to cope with this? What about her education? She'll lose at least a year!"

"Mary and I have decided that it would be best for her to stay here," Nicolai said quietly.

"And why the hell would we care about the opinion of two stupid kids who—" Matt started to scream again, when Ironheart cut him off briskly.

"I know this comes to you as a shock, but like I explained, it was beyond their control. They've been raised well, and under normal circumstances, they wouldn't have done it. In this case, it truly isn't anyone's fault."

"What about the Healers?" Matt asked, keen on laying the blame somewhere. "They should have known about the effects the antidote would have had on Nicolai."

"I set the only recorded precedent in the matter," Ironheart said. "They discovered the side-effect by studying me. But since there are so few like me and Nicolai, making the odds of a part-incubus male being bitten by a Doxy nearly impossible, you can't expect the Healers to have remembered that obscure little fact."

Matt turned to face Hermione. "I bet _you_ knew that obscure little fact!"

Hermione blushed, opening and closing her mouth as she sought a diplomatic answer. Matt had guessed correctly, of course. "Well … yes, but only because I've done research on part-incubus males, in light of some … past events, and only in hindsight!"

Harry folded his arms and covered his mouth with his hand to hide his grin. The events Hermione had been mentioned concerned some of the entrancing effects she'd suffered in Nicolai's presence at the Weasley family outing, the day before Harry and Ginny's wedding.

"That's how I came across the effects of Doxy venom antidote on part-incubus males," Hermione continued. "But it was nothing more than a footnote, really. I only learned about it by chance."

"I've decided to stay because Nicolai said that it wouldn't be good for me and the baby to be apart in the early years," Mary said.

"I wasn't around either, but you turned out okay," Gudrun said.

"Says the mother to a daughter who got knocked up at age fifteen," Matt grumbled.

"Shut up, Matt!" his wife snapped.

"It will be for Mary's benefit as well," Nicolai said. "Helping me take care of our baby _while_ she finishes her education will aid her in developing a sense of responsibility."

Mary gave Nicolai a scandalised look. "I do have a sense of responsibility. Unlike you, I _have_ changed diapers!"

"That's not the same as raising a child, Mary," Nicolai countered patiently. "I know you'll be a wonderful mother, but becoming one won't be easy. I'll help you as much as I can, but I need to go to work to earn a living for us."

Harry frowned. "I thought you were going to work on some projects for the Order. New Cruisers, or something?"

Ironheart shot his grandson an astonished look. "I haven't heard anything about that."

Nicolai blushed. "I was going to tell you, but I've been a bit preoccupied about how to deliver _this_ news. Anyway, I wasn't going to get paid for it, so I'll to have to tell Commander Faust that I can't do it anymore. After all, I have a family to support now. I reckon I can get a job at Gringotts. The Goblins have been trying to lure me into working for them ever since I opened the doors to Aristaeus' tomb."

Harry had forgotten all about that. Nicolai had done what other wizards had tried and failed to do for two hundred years.

Aristaeus had been a Greek wizard and a mathematician endowed with extreme longevity due to ample Draconian blood in his veins, which was reputedly further extended by a mysterious self-proclaimed ability to enter into and emerge from life-extending hibernation at will. His claims were supported by the fact that he'd vanished from the public eye in the sixth century BC and reappeared approximately three hundred and forty years later, not having aged a day.

The doors to his tomb had been sealed with an alloy of previously unknown, but recently identified origin in the Mirror Realm. That was why it had been named Umbranium, and depending on its treatment in the forge, it could very strongly conduct or repel magic, and could be tougher than any other alloy that could be found on Earth. Voldemort himself had tried, and failed, to force the doors open with dark magic, hoping to find something of value in the tomb.

The secret to opening the doors had been in the Draconian runes that covered them. Nicolai was the only living wizard who knew how to translate the language properly. The other experts had proven to be far less proficient than they had claimed, as Nicolai had often professed despite being scorned by said experts. Then, in Nicolai's final year at school, he had baffled the wizarding world by translating the message and discovering that it was actually a coded instruction on how to open the doors. It had been simple matter in the boy's own humble opinion, since he had absorbed the contents of many tomes on cryptography, codes and ciphers.

Opening the tomb had led him to become the youngest wizard ever to get his face on a chocolate frog card, and it had been an enormous media spectacle. In spite of that, Harry had forgotten all about it, because it had happened around the same time as Galatea's death and Wolfe's subsequent disappearance.

"But you'll be away a lot!" Mary protested.

Nicolai shrugged helplessly. "It pays really well. They've been sending me letters all year, offering me a higher salary every time. I'll only have to do very few assignments to earn a living."

"But it's dangerous. Please, don't take that job!" Mary pleaded.

"Oh, hell, he can live here," Matt grumbled. "And it's not like I can't afford to take care of another ankle-biter."

"Or Nicolai can live with us, where he'll be right next door," Heidi, who had been silent so far, spoke up. "You have four children, and with Mary living at home full time, and the baby, you'll have six people."

"_Here's_ fine! We'll make due with the guestroom," Mary said, shooting Heidi a venomous glare and clutching Nicolai's hand possessively. Her hostility towards Heidi came from the circulating stories about Heidi's initial reaction to Nicolai, four years ago. Since Harry's gift enabled him to see things that others couldn't, he knew that it wasn't completely due to juvenile insecurity on Mary's part. While Nicolai loved only Mary, he had always been, and still was, fascinated by Heidi's innate gracefulness. Somehow Mary could sense that.

"Perhaps you'd like to join my household," Ironheart suggested. He'd also sensed Mary's volatility, and was trying to defuse the situation. "My house is as large as yours, but I only share it with Aria and Elena, so there is plenty of room. Elena is also a qualified Charms and Transfiguration teacher, so she could be your private tutor in those subjects and get you ready for the tests. She also knows some people who are qualified to teach the other subjects. You could complete your education at home."

"That's okay. I only need to get my basic skill qualifications this year, and then I can quit school."

"No!" Matt, Gudrun, and Nicolai shouted in unison.

"Mary, you need to think about the future," Nicolai said quickly. "You won't make it as a winged horse breeder without a well-rounded education. You won't be eligible for an apprenticeship at an established breeder without advanced qualification in Care for Magical Creatures."

"I don't need an apprenticeship," Mary said snootily. "Daddy promised to buy me a ranch."

"Only if you knew what you were doing, which evidently won't be the case if you quit after your fifth year," Matt said.

Mary scowled at her father and boyfriend.

"How can you expect to raise a baby with that attitude?" Heidi asked. "If you want to be a good mother to your baby you'll have to grow up first."

"What do _you_ know?" Mary sneered disdainfully. "You don't have any children—you don't even have a man!"

A deafening silence ensued for several very long seconds. The angry yowling of a cat outside interrupted the silence, and Harry found it an oddly appropriate sound to accompany the look Mary was giving Heidi.

A wave of emotional anguish came rolling off Heidi, who turned on her heel and fled out into the courtyard. Ironheart began to rise from his seat to follow her, but Harry, who had been standing behind him, pressed him back into his chair. Ironheart, who physically resembled the reason for Heidi's pain, was hardly the ideal candidate to comfort Heidi in her vulnerable state. He nodded to Hermione, who had already been on her way to the door with Jasmine.

Gudrun began screaming at Mary in Icelandic, and Mary cringed under her mother's verbal onslaught until Nicolai intervened, also speaking Icelandic. The surprise of hearing Nicolai addressing her in her own language took the momentum out of Gudrun's tirade.

"You really owe Heidi an apology. What you said to her was very cruel, and completely untrue," Nicolai told Mary. "Heidi is a mother to Robert and Henry, and to all the other kids who depend on her taking care of them so their parents can continue to serve in the Order of Illumination. Besides, it's the fact that she's so committed to being a second mother to your brothers and sisters that prevents her from socialising and finding a mate."

Mary, who had been staring at the floor in embarrassment, looked at the door that led to the courtyard.

"No, not now," Nicolai said in apparent answer to her thoughts. "You'd best allow Heidi some time to calm down. For your part, you should take some time to think about your outburst up in your room."

To Harry's surprise, Mary immediately complied with Nicolai's request and headed upstairs.

Nicolai sighed and looked at Gudrun and Matt. "Mary's very young and insecure, and she's nowhere near ready to raise a child. But she'll need your support and your love, so please be patient with her."

"Maybe she _should_ move out," Gudrun said, taking care to keep her voice down. "If she stays here, there's a chance that I'll kill her before the nine months are up."

Matt fixed Nicolai with a penetrating stare. "I know my daughter, and all her less-desirable character traits. But I also know that she's pretty sensitive to things that go on around her. She wouldn't have felt threatened by Heidi for no good reason. You've spent a lot of time with Heidi over the past year."

"I don't have any romantic desires towards Heidi," Nicolai said flatly. "She's very well-educated, and she has this grace about her that I find very appealing. In fact, she reminds me of Lynette."

"And you see the same grace in Mary, don't you?" Ironheart said.

Nicolai smiled. "Yeah."

Gudrun snorted. "My daughter doesn't have a graceful bone in her body."

"When I say grace, I'm talking about charm, not refinement. Mary's like a diamond in the rough, but she's still a diamond. The refinement will come with age."

"You hope! If she's anything like her mother, we shouldn't hold our breath," Matt teased his wife.

"Any complaints?" Gudrun challenged.

"Not at all, my Lady of Caer Sidi," Matt said, before kissing his wife's hand. Then he turned to Nicolai. "I have to ask you this, kid. Do you really intend to stay with Mary for the rest of your life? I'm asking you because we have to consider the continuation ritual of the Consanguinity Charm. It isn't really an urgent matter, since Nathan and Xander both precede Mary. And when they have children—are you listening?"

Matt's sudden question had been prompted by the fact that Nicolai had been staring off into space. It broke Nicolai's reverie, and he shot to his feet and slapped his forehead. "Lady of Caer Sidi… of course. I'm such an idiot! Why didn't I see this sooner?" Then he closed his eyes and stood there, unmoving.

"What is he talking about?" Gudrun asked.

"He does this from time to time," Ironheart said casually. "He's had another epiphany. I made the mistake of trying to read him in this state once. The information overload gave me a headache that lasted for hours."

When Harry heard that, he stopped himself before he made an attempt to read Nicolai.

Nicolai's eyes snapped open. "Mr Kelly, there's a secret chamber beneath Anzu's pit. May I go to Caer Sidi to open it? You'll have to come with me to open the vault, of course. I expect to find some treasure that might be worth more that the rest of the treasure put together."

"Whoa, what are you talking about? How do you know?"

"When you said Lady of Caer Sidi, I remembered a manuscript I came across, written in Draconian. Some words were misspelled, but I've realised that the mistakes were deliberate. Together, the letters spelled the name of the witch who was the Lady of Caer Sidi at the time when the Portal to the Mirror Realm was destroyed. The name was also a simple decryption key for some hidden messages in the text."

"What are they?" Matt asked eagerly.

"Well, I don't know yet. I could concentrate and decrypt the manuscript while visualising it in my mind, but it would save a lot of time and energy if I had the manuscript in front of me."

"This could be an awesome find," Harry said. "Do you want me to call the Citadel and ask for volunteers among the off-duty Rangers?"

"I don't need any help, just a way to get to Caer Sidi, and a way to open the vault. But if anyone wants to watch, they'd be more than welcome to."

"Maybe you ought to wait until tomorrow," Gudrun said. "A lot of people were going to attend Heidi's party this afternoon."

Matt frowned. "Are you sure she's still in the mood, after what happened?"

"Good question. Let me go check," Gudrun said, and walked out the door that lead to the courtyard and The Wolfes' Den.

"We can wait another day. The treasure isn't going anywhere," Nicolai said. "We can't cancel Heidi's surprise birthday party to go treasure hunting. The whole point of it was to show her how much we appreciate her."

Harry wondered whether the party was still on.

X

* * *

X

"You're not ugly, Heidi," Jasmine said exasperatedly, reacting to Heidi's wails about Mary being right. "You're twenty-nine. You've got plenty of time to meet a good man. You say that men don't flirt with you anymore when you go out, but honestly, when was the last time that you went out without Henry and Robert? _Of course_ men won't approach you with two little boys holding your hands, because it suggests that you're not unattached."

"B-But I can't go out on d-dates," Heidi sniffed. "Who would look after the children?"

"I would."

"What if…?" Heidi hesitated, unwilling to finish the sentence.

Jasmine's eyes narrowed. "That's the problem, isn't it? You're worried about the longer term. Well, you'll have to risk it. A decent man who truly cares about you will respect your decision to take care of Robert and Henry. And no, I wouldn't mind if he moved in with you, as long as he doesn't treat my nephews badly and provided that he earns his own living," she added, answering the question that must have been lurking in Heidi's mind.

"But what if Max—"

"_If_ he ever comes back, his custody of the children won't be a given," Jasmine sharply retorted. "He chose to play avenger instead of assuming his responsibility, and he'd have no right to make a fuss if he found you living with another man, even if it _is_ his house. He never told you that you couldn't move on. Neither did Galatea. Sure, you might have to forfeit part of the allowance you receive from the children's trust fund, but he can't deprive his kids of a stable living environment by kicking you out."

"That's not what I meant."

"I know. I was getting to that … your feelings for Max. It's about time that you got over him. He chose an empty life without a future instead of you."

"It's not empty. He did it to protect us," Heidi said. "He's protecting _your_ children, too!"

"He hasn't had any more success tracking Yamato down than the Rangers have—isn't that right, Hermione?"

Hermione realised that her hope not to be involved had been in vain. Worse, her answer to Jasmine's question wasn't what Jasmine wanted to hear. While the hunt for Yamato might have been going better for the Order, had Max co-operated with them, by himself he'd actually been more effective than the Order. It was time for one of her increasingly famous diplomatic answers.

"Max didn't have to leave to hunt Yamato on his own, Heidi. You know that Galatea's death made everyone understand that an active search for Yamato was in everyone's best interests. He may mean well, but that's no excuse to perform terrible Dark magic, even if the targets are bad people."

"Medea Aconit deserved what she got," Heidi said bitterly. "She killed my mother too, remember?"

"Yes, she deserved it. But that doesn't mean that Max has the right to be judge, jury and executioner."

"And Medea Aconit _did_ have the right to kill Galatea, my stepfather, and my mother?"

"Heidi," Hermione began, trying a different tactic. "Max is letting the ends justify the means. Yes, he uses his power for what is basically a good thing. But will he remember that if the circumstances change enough to put some unexpected obstacles in his way? What if Yamato is within his reach, but he's opposed by a bunch of hit-wizards who don't know about Yamato, and who try to stop Max because of all the damage he's causing while trying to get to Yamato? Suppose that's the case and the only way to prevent Yamato's escape would require fast action, but non-lethal alternatives would take too much time? Could their fates possibly be justified? Would you rationalise that it was okay because Yamato would have killed the same number of people, if not many more, in the future?"

"Max would never do that!"

"I never thought he'd invent a terrible torture curse either. But he did."

"We don't know if he invented it."

"Very few wizards have the power to perform that spell, and it must have been invented by someone with enough power. If Voldemort or Grindelwald had invented it, they would have used it, but there was no record of the curse until now. There's no reason to worry yet, though," Hermione said soothingly, sensing Heidi's distress over the possibility of Max having turned to evil completely. "Max went out of his way to protect the Muggles in Brazil, even though he'd still have had a slim chance of catching Yamato if he hadn't done so."

Jasmine conjured a handkerchief for Heidi to wipe her tears with. "Tears won't make Max see his folly."

"Girls? Where are you?" Gudrun called from downstairs.

"The master bedroom," Hermione called back.

"Are we still having tea at Jasmine's?"

"I can't possibly go to your house like this," Heidi said while she dabbed her eyes.

"We can't just let you sulk in here," Hermione said firmly. "Your sons will be expecting you—that's right, I said your _sons_. There is more to being a mother than giving birth. You're a very good mother, Heidi. Robert and Henry love you, and Raina prefers to spend her time here even when Ron and I _are_ home." She drew her wand, and with a few quick flicks the puffiness in Heidi's eyes vanished and her nose returned to its normal colour. Then, Hermione grabbed one of Heidi's arms while Jasmine grabbed the other, and they hauled her off the bed and to her feet. "Come on!"

"Yes, Gudrun, we're still having tea at my place," Jasmine called to Gudrun. "Go on ahead."

"I can't go with these rags on," Heidi said adamantly, and pointed downwards. "Look, the hem is all tattered. I only wear this around the house when I'm playing with the kids."

Jasmine smiled. "A girl has the right to look good on her birthday. Who knows, maybe we'll run into that handsome milkman on the way to my house."

Heidi scrunched her nose. "Really, Jasmine. He's married, and a sleaze-ball. Didn't you know he's doing Mrs Boxhorn?"

"My next door neighbour?" Jasmine frowned. "'Doing'?"

"Slipping her the salami." Heidi nodded morosely. "Even old Mrs Boxhorn is getting some loving on the side, and I've got nothing."

"How do you know?"

"Mrs Lescoriere told me," Heidi said, as she stepped into her closet and began looking for some appropriate clothes.

Hermione snorted. Marguerite Lescoriere was _her_ next door neighbour, a nosy witch with nothing better to do than hoard gossip. Harry had once mentioned that the woman strongly reminded him of his Aunt Petunia, with regards to her nosiness. "Why talk to _that_ woman? How come you even know her?"

"She's into charity, and helps out down in Red One from time to time, mainly for everyone to see how charitable she is. Lately she's been trying hard to become my new best friend." Heidi strolled into the bathroom with her selection of clothing and left the door slightly open to continue the conversation. "She keeps coming over to the courtyard to chat. I can't think of a way to get rid of her. Any ideas?"

"What about the truth?"

"Tempting, but I don't want an enemy either."

"Condition Caesar to attack her," Jasmine suggested.

"Even more tempting, but Robert would be inconsolable if animal control took his Crup away."

Jasmine snapped her fingers. "Wait, I have a brilliant idea. Flirt with her husband. After that, she'll give you the cold shoulder for sure."

"That'll make me her enemy too, and it'll sour her marriage. Besides, her husband might leave her to start pursuing me. Ugh!"

Jasmine laughed. "It _would_ solve your man problem."

"I'd rather be celibate for the rest of my life," Heidi's muffled voice came back.

Hermione shuddered. She had to agree with Heidi there. There was something creepy about Antoine Lescoriere. On the surface, one wouldn't think anything was wrong with him, save for his pale and slightly unwholesome appearance. However, when Ron and Hermione had gone over to introduce themselves, Hermione had noticed the _extreme_ neatness of their home. Even the living-room's decoration had been perfectly symmetrical, and the teacups they had been using were rinsed out after every serving. Signs of diseased minds.

"Honestly, Jasmine. How could you even suggest such a thing? The man isn't completely sane. He threw a fit when he found out that Ron hadn't put towels in their bathroom back exactly the way he'd found them, after washing his hands. And everything in their house is either blue or white."

"You and Ron visited them?" Jasmine asked incredulously.

"They invited us over shortly after we moved in. You mean they didn't invite you and Charlie?"

Jasmine shook her head.

"Charlie and Jasmine are too chaotic," Heidi said. "The Lescorieres probably noticed immediately."

"What do you mean, _chaotic_?" Jasmine asked, looking affronted.

"Your bedroom's curtains are a different colour than the ones in your kitchen. The polka dots probably offend them too. Anyway, I guess they must've invited Hermione and Ron over because they thought Hermione was a kindred spirit."

"I_—I am most certainly not!_" Hermione sputtered.

"You're not crazy, but you do like your things neat and organised," Heidi said.

"I've always wondered how you can co-exist with a Weasley, Hermione," Jasmine said. "They're chaos incarnate."

Hermione smiled. "Ron's not as bad as he used to be. It's Raina I'm more worried about these days. The day before yesterday, she managed to get herself completely dirty again exactly forty-five seconds after I'd finished bathing her."

"For me, it's a daily struggle to get my daughter to take a bath, let alone keeping her from getting dirty again."

Hermione turned to the bathroom. "How do _you_ do it, Heidi? Whenever Raina sleeps over, she's squeaky clean when I pick her up."

"Easy. I play her off against the other children," Heidi replied.

"The gold star system," Jasmine explained. "The children can earn gold stars with good behaviour, and a number of gold stars entitles them to a special treat."

"You know, you can wait for me downstairs. I'll be while," Heidi said.

"How would you possibly take so long?" Hermione asked.

"Wrestling Matt this morning made me all sweaty. I need another shower."

Jasmine shook her head. "Just hurry up, all right?"

After Heidi's affirmative reply, Hermione and Jasmine headed downstairs and helped themselves to some juice. Then they headed to the sofa to sit down, where Hermione noticed a folded piece of cloth. She picked it up and placed it on the coffee table to unfold it. It was an descendant-centred family tree. It began with Heidi at the bottom and grew to reveal sixty-four ancestors, six generations into the past. There was a note in German, which told Hermione that it was probably a present for Heidi from her family.

Hermione was pleased to see that Heidi still had all her grandparents, _and_ seven out of eight great-grandparents. The maiden name of one of Heidi's great-grandmothers—the mother of Heidi's von Nettesheim grandmother—was Boehme, and Hermione wondered how closely related Heidi was to Helena Boehme, a German witch who had joined the Order in the summer of 2002. More surprisingly, it seemed like Heidi had some relatives in Britain too. One of her great-grandmothers—her father's maternal grandmother—was Cornelia Blue, daughter of Connor Blue and Sophie Schepp. The wizarding Blues were a nearly extinct Sept of the wizarding Macmillans, because only a few women remained with that name. The name had become extinct because the last Blue sired only daughters.

The tree told Hermione that Sophie Schepp had died relatively early, widowing Connor. And though this tree didn't show it, Hermione also knew that Connor Blue had moved back to Britain, remarried, and sired Clementina Blue, who later became Clementina Weasley, Ron's grandmother. She and her sister Cornelia had both been at the wedding. Heidi was Ron and Ginny's second cousin once removed.

Hermione chuckled. She hadn't seen Heidi interact with Cornelia, so she assumed that Heidi hadn't even realised who the old lady was. "Jasmine, Heidi's more closely related to Ron and Ginny than you are."

"You're kidding!"

"Nope, it's right here. Connor Blue remarried their great-grandmother after Heidi's great-great grandmother died."

"How do you know it's the same Connor Blue?"

"Because Cornelia Blue was also at my wedding."

They continued to examine the cloth and came across several other familiar names like Karakoff and Delacour, but those were at the very top of the tree, six generations into the past. They also noticed that a pair of ancestors, Adalric von Nettesheim and Claudia Pichler, who appeared twice on the tree. Heidi's parents were third cousins, like Charlie and Jasmine. Hermione imagined that the same phenomenon would be present in Goyle's or Crabbe's family trees, though probably alarmingly frequent and much closer together, generation-wise.

Finally, Heidi came downstairs. The most striking feature about her dress was a long plaid skirt. It had a background layered with a pattern of bars in several shades of blue, and single white lines and triple red lines criss-crossing the Tartan's base pattern. It was usually accompanied by a broad shawl draped over a wide-sleeved Highland blouse, but Heidi's attire clearly had Victorian English and Austrian influence. She wore a white blouse with snugly fitting long sleeves and a square neckline, under a cornflower-blue bodice. Being Heidi, she had accessorised nicely with flat-soled shoes that matched her bodice, and small white-gold earrings. She'd also braided a matching cornflower-blue ribbon into her hair.

"Bloody hell, Heidi, we're just having tea."

Heidi grinned. "Save it. Rosie overheard the planning and told Rachel. Rachel told Robert and Henry, and Henry can't keep secrets."

X

* * *

**Author's Note: **Wow, thanks for the many reactions. There will be plenty to comment on in later chapters, so please, don't be a stranger. Like I said, even pointing out the same things another reviewer has already pointed out has its value.

On another note, I am toying with the idea of re-writing the previous stories to fit canon better, as soon as I have time. I would post them separately, with 'canonised' written behind the titles. I kept info on the years at Hogwarts deliberately vague, so it won't be too difficult …I hope. Of course, the stories would still be a bit A/U, since it's highly unlikely that JK Rowling will ever approach magic in a 'technological' way, like it have. But I digress… What do you say, oh noble readers? Should I do it?

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**Darcy101**: Thanks, that's very flattering. As for how many stories I'll write, I really can't tell you that right now.

**amy**: Change the stories to original characters? You mean take out the Harry Potter elements and write an original novel?

**Bluerain22**: Princess Bride is _supposed_ to be a bit of a cheesy and cliché adventure/romance/comedy. :-) And the name of Wolfe's son is Westley … you know, like the male lead id The Princess Bride.

**KEDme**: There will be more glimpses.

**jedizelot**: You and lots of other reviewers, apparently. See the value of reviewing? Now I know that it was probably a good move, and I can keep it in mind for any possible original fics I might write in the future.

**mrsean**: The reason the Order is trying to stop him will be discussed in a later chapter. I think you'll understand the reason then. And who said that Yamato has done anything to Westley? Okay, odds are that he _did_, but you can't know that for sure. ;-) Also, you did indeed miss the mention of elapsed time between chapters 2 and 3. But I mentioned it very explicitly, so if you really want to know you'll have to scan the chapter more thoroughly, for, like I said before, I encourage thorough reading.

**Numba1**: Let's see, Mary's 15 and a few months, and Nicolai is a few months away from 16. As for your second question, Nicolai's father was a wizard named Boris Savin, who was the son of the still living criminal wizarding kingpin Ivan 'The Impaler' Savin.

**StarWest45**:See answer to previous reviewer. And unlike you, I _didn't_ have a catholic education, so I had to do research on the subject.

**Athena McGonagall**: I think you'll find the explanation I've given for Mary's pregnancy and Nicolai's lack of restraint satisfactory, am I right?

**squirtiert**: Thanks…and don't be afraid to review, either positive or negative. (In either case, take the time to explain _why_.)

**ObsessedwithSnuffles**: Mary's age is mentioned four reviewers above. Concerning the timeline, it's essential for writing a good story. Otherwise you'll get nitpicking readers who'll create a Nearly Headless Nick timeline debacle.

**blah29**: I'll indulge you and answer your question … a little over 20 for the first fic, a little over 24 for the second one, and nearly nineteen for the third. So now you guys must be thinking, what's this dude bitching about? That's more reviews than most people get. Well, it isn't about average review count, or absolute review count. It's more about the contents of the reviews. Even your one-liner is valuable to me, for it tells me that you like the way the story is unfolding itself.

**RobBonner22**: Was my typo-laden review useful? ;-)

**fire-bebe**: Hmm, you didn't have to make your review sound so … _mandatory_. :-(

**NCDSbookworm**: Glad you got your laughs. I don't want the overall fic to become too gloomy.

**Glitter8262**: That's all right. I'm glad you took the time to grace me with a review _now_.

**Gogirl**: There will be plenty of Ginny.

**Stefanie**: Charlie Jr is 11.

**Angie**: Wow, you people sure are obsessed with Mary and Nicolai's age. ;-)

**aznanarchy**: The explanation of Wolfe's apparent clarity of mind will come back in a later chapter. And no, I'm not planning to name the new 'Unforgivable'. As for the wards, they've been attuned to Harry's signature.

**ItachiKun**: _Ages_? Come now, I'm a fairy regular updater!

**Fragarach**: Thank you. I'm glad my research paid off.

**OrionHiddenRing**: To the pain, eh? :-)

**Kristus Veranus**: I'm glad you could appreciate it.

**Velocity**: Radically Light? Interesting way to see things.

**pudadingding**: T'was a typo.

**Tosca**: Why would the kid have any strange powers?

**He Who Reads**: Even though my 'originality' puts my fics light-years away from JF Rowling's style?

**Nya**: I'll add a chapter with all the info once all the children who are to be born have been born.

**Beak**: Thank you. Good to see that you and the other reviewers didn't experience this bit of comedy as a disruption to the dark beginning of the fic.


	5. Warm and Cold Receptions

Chapter 5

**Warm and Cold Receptions**

****

Harry relished the warmth of Ginny's embrace and the feeling of her soft lips on his, completely blocking out the bustle of the maintenance bay. He'd been afraid that he wouldn't be able to be home for Christmas and New Year's, on account of some unexpected trouble with a Nundu in Africa. Fortunately they got unexpected help from a clan of Abatwa—tiny humanoid sprites living in the area—and the Nundu was tracked down more easily than usual.

"You've been away for too long," Ginny said, eyeing him with her smouldering brown eyes after they had—eventually and reluctantly—broken their lip-lock. "I'm just about done here. Want to go home and fall into bed?"

He shook his head as they made their way to a quieter spot. "I got plenty of bunk time on the _Cruiser_."

"Not the question I asked, husband," Ginny said pointedly.

Harry grinned sheepishly. "I guess I _have_ been away for too long."

"I'm sure Ginny will come up with some ways for you to make up for lost time, Harry," Gudrun's voice teased. Harry turned around and saw the grimy Icelandic witch approaching them.

Ginny gasped. "You're covered in Conductor Potion!"

"We had a little accident while replacing it. I'm glad Nicolai is done with the Umbral Gate. Now he can finally start designing those new _Cruisers_."

"Which reminds me, we've got visitors for Christmas," Ginny said. "Percy's here in an official capacity to attend the activation of the Umbral Gate tomorrow, and he'll be staying 'till the 27th."

Harry remembered the discovery of the secret chambers in Caer Sidi, four months ago. Within the chamber, they had found legendary weapons and artefacts that had been lost for centuries.

A few very interesting items had been a hammer that caused lightning, named _Mjollnir_, better known as Thor's Hammer, and its companion girdle _Megingjarpar_, which granted the strength to wield _Mjollnir_. Aside from the hammer and girdle there had been some more items from Norse mythology, like Beowulf's swords _Naegling_ and _Hrunting_, and _Aegishjalmarr _the Helm of Awe. Equally impressive had been _Petasus_ and the _Talaria_, the winged cap and sandals mentioned in Greek mythology. However, documents found within the chamber suggested that Matt's ancestors had acquired these items through dishonourable means, so Matt had immediately returned the items in question to the wizarding authorities of their places of origin, making a few friends in high places in the process.

Then there were the items that Matt had kept because they were part of the original family treasure, among them the treasures brought by the Draconians, who were locally called the Tuatha De Danann. _Fragarach _the Answerer, the sword of Gorias; _Gáe Assail_ the 'Lighting Spear' of Finias; and the Cauldron of Dagda from the city of Murias. The fourth treasure, the _Lia Fail_ or Stone of Destiny, had emitted a sound akin to a crowd roaring with joy when Matt sat down on top of it. That meant that he was the true High King of the British and Irish Muggles, which Nicolai had declared 'hardly surprising,' since Matt's bloodlines had far more direct links to the ancient kings of Britain and Ireland than any Muggle bloodline of the modern day. It also confirmed what the wizarding world had suspected for a long time, namely that the stone in Edinburgh Castle was a fake, instead of it just having lost its magic over time. Matt had desperately wanted to keep the _Lia Fail_'s reaction to him under wraps, but Gudrun would have none of that and openly bragged about being a queen.

The most important find, however, had been the remains of the Umbral Gate of Caer Sidi, along with information about the location of another similar gate in the Tibetan Highlands, which used to be the link to the city of Shamballah. As far as Nicolai had been able to tell from the documents found in the secret chamber, the Tibetan Umbral Gate had been closed on the other side to prevent corruption by the unworthy. Over time, the gate in the Earth Realm had fallen into disrepair and was eventually smashed to pieces by marauding Yeti. Between the wreckage of the two gates, Nicolai had had enough material to rebuild one gate, which he did. The new Umbral Gate was placed in a newly-built complex outside Concordia, where traffic through this gate could be easily monitored and defended against, if necessary.

Harry shook his head in disbelief. "They're opening the gate tomorrow already? I assume it's been tested to see if there's anyone on the other side?"

"Hermione, Captain Kovalenko and I went through the gate with Nicolai," Ginny said.

Harry received the news with mixed feelings. He was a bit uneasy about Ginny taking such a risk, even though he knew that she was very much able to handle herself in a scrap. "You should have waited for me to return."

"We would have, but one of the scrolls Nicolai found in the chamber at Caer Sidi predicted a favourable reception for those who would first appear through the gate, after it was reopened."

"How so?" Harry asked.

"Long ago, the younger brother of one of Shamballah's rulers came to our realm to keep an eye on things from this side of the gate. Then the line of kings died out, and shortly before the gate was closed they sent through a written prophecy about a descendant of that younger brother who would reopen the gate after fifteen centuries. The descendant would have been reared in his evil house, but would also have rejected the evil, in the same way the first ruler of Shamballah had. The first thing the reception committee did when we came through the gate was to ask us who had opened the gate on our side. Then they put Nicolai through all sorts of tests to establish his identity—Hermione said it reminded her of the tests for the Dalai Lama."

"So he's the ruler of Shamballah?"

Ginny grinned from ear to ear. "Nicolai is a king, just like Matt. Unlike Matt, though, it's more than just pedigree. Nicolai has a kingdom."

"Bloody hell, a lot has happened in my absence."

"That ought to teach you not to leave for four whole weeks."

"Why didn't anybody let us know?"

"Faust didn't want you distracted," Gudrun said, while she ineffectually tried to wipe some of the potion off her tunic. That was when Harry noticed her new rank insignia.

"You're a lieutenant?"

Gudrun beamed. "Yeah. Captain Yee relinquished her command, though she'll still be working for a few more years to train the newcomers—we've got three new kids lined up to join us this summer. Yousef's captain now, and Tarana didn't want the lieutenant spot, so I got it."

Harry grinned. "Just as well. Oliseh isn't bossy enough."

Gudrun shrugged. "I can't help it. I like bossing people around. What can I say? I was born to be a queen!"

"You certainly don't look like one now, Your Majesty." Ginny quipped as she ran her finger across Gudrun's cheek and wiped off some potion.

"Whoa, wait, hold on!" Harry sputtered. "Nicolai is the ruling monarch of an ancient lost magical civilisation like Atlantis, and you two are acting like nothing happened?"

"He's not the ruling monarch yet. He still needs to be crowned," Gudrun pointed out.

"I take it he won't become a Ranger anymore, with so much responsibility," Harry ventured. "Unless it's okay for monarchs to be at the front lines?"

"Nicolai says he won't assume control over the kingdom immediately, since the ruling council seems to have been doing well enough without him. He's planning to name a regent to keep an eye on things in his stead, until he's ready himself."

"Why wouldn't he be ready? He's a genius."

"He's not perfect, though. It took him a while to work out that he was in no position to use his newly acquired parenting personality on Mary, remember?" Ginny said.

Harry nodded. He'd seen Nicolai treat Mary like the rebellious teenager she was, and he'd also realised that, being Mary's lover, Nicolai couldn't treat her in that manner. He would have pointed it out to Nicolai, but he'd been convinced that the young man would work it out for himself. "Ah, so who's going to be regent?"

"We don't know, but my Galleons are on Ironheart. He's been a tad bored ever since retiring, and such an assignment would be right up his alley."

Gudrun chuckled. "Yeah, a whole new world to explore and exotic female beings to seduce … _if_ he can give Aria the slip."

"And Mary?" Harry asked. "I bet she's itching to go too."

"We haven't told her yet." Gudrun shook her head. "She's really been behaving like a prima donna since she found out about Matt and the Stone of Destiny. She'd have turned really insufferable if we'd told her about this."

"Gee, now who does that remind me off?" Ginny said sarcastically.

Gudrun's cheeks turned pink. "Point taken, though you have to admit I'm not nearly as bad as she is."

"Could be her hormones," Ginny suggested.

"That's probably got something to do with it," Gudrun conceded. "Mine wreaked havoc on my behaviour too. Anyway, she's not going anywhere until she finishes her education." She paused to check her watch. "You still have another fifteen minutes to go, but I guess I can let you off early to spend some quality time with your husband."

"You're most gracious, Your Majesty." Ginny bowed with flourish.

"Enough of that already."

"As you wish, Your Magnificence."

"Ginny, I'm warning you!"

* * *

X

* * *

"Daddy!" Richard squealed, and trudged through the seven inches of snow as quickly as his short legs allowed him to. Snow was uncommon in the temperate climate of Concordia, and really quite rare in such quantities. Harry met his son halfway, and a warm feeling spread through Ginny as Harry plucked their son off the ground and twirled him around.

"Good Lord, Richie, you've grown," Harry said as he looked as his son. "Unless war breaks out, I'll never accept four-week missions again," he added, turning to Ginny. Then he ran his hand through Richie's unruly black hair, knocking the boy's earmuffs askew. "He needs a haircut."

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "Why? You can't possibly be ashamed of his hair. He's inherited it from you, after all."

"Honestly, Ginny, he's beginning to look like a hedgehog."

"I don't know … he looks just like you when I first met you," Ginny said, looking at them fondly.

"Dunno… he's got my hair and eyes, but his face is all Weasley. He reminds me of Bill, actually," Harry said, and Ginny had to agree with him. Richie _did_ take after Bill.

"Sometimes he makes a face that's all _you_, though."

"Well, the real deal's back now, so there's no reason to let our son grow scruffy to satisfy your nostalgia and—" Harry paused, sensing their niece Rosie's clumsy attempt at sneaking up on him. With uncanny quickness he dodged the small snowball. "Hah, you're too sl—" The rest of Harry's sentence was cut short by a direct hit to his left ear.

Ginny laughed heartily at her husband's discomfort.

"Don't laugh. It's a nasty feeling," Harry grumbled as he furiously prodded his finger into his ear.

"Good one, Robert," a pink-faced strawberry blonde girl, Percy's eldest, praised, identifying the assailant. Ginny saw the boy smirking triumphantly with his arms crossed—a pose his father often adopted—while Grace stroked his shoulder admiringly, much to six-year-old Rachel Kelly's chagrin. She clearly didn't want the older girl, who had intruded on her territory and taken over as leader of the girls, becoming too familiar with _her_ Robert. Ginny immediately knew whom the snowball Rachel was gathering was intended for.

Harry's eyes shone with youthful enthusiasm, and dumped Richard in Ginny's arms before he turned to Robert. "You _do_ realise that this means war!" He looked at the Kellys' roof and wiggled his finger. A magical tremor ran through the roof, causing a bit of snow to slide off it.

Robert dove forward and broke his fall with a light roll, escaping the snow. After turning six he'd expressed his desire to learn martial arts, so Heidi had enrolled him in the Olsens' dojo, where he soon became the best in his age group, even besting children two years older than he. Grace, however, was caught flatfooted and was almost instantly turned into a living snowman, much to Rachel's glee.

"I'm going inside, Harry," Ginny called.

Harry didn't answer. He was busy erecting a snow fort with some wand-less magic, while Peter Faust joined Robert behind an existing fortress. Shaking her head, Ginny headed to the Wolfes' Den, where she found Hannah chatting animatedly with Heidi and Jasmine.

The children were spread out over the rug-covered floor. Scarlett, Percy and Hannah's youngest, was dressing up some rather popular Muggle dolls with Holly, Buttercup, and the Faust sisters. Gudrun's mum had bought the dolls for her own granddaughters, and Matt paid an expert wizard toy maker to prod some life into the dolls. As far away from the girls as possible, Henry Wolfe, Michael Faust and Nathan Kelly were huddled around their gobstones, while Xander Kelly watched them play. Heidi saw her coming and quickly conjured a chair.

Ginny put Richard down and took off his cloak, scarf and earmuffs, before she allowed him to scamper over to the gobstones game. Then she sat down and accepted a mug of hot chocolate from Heidi.

"How are you settling in at Ron and Hermione's?" she asked Hannah, after taking a sip from her chocolate. Ron and Hermione had decided to use the Christmas holidays to visit the family and introduce their youngest child, Christine, to the land of her forefathers. Knowing that Percy had to be in Concordia for the official opening of the Umbral Gate, they had offered their home for Percy and his family to stay in.

"It's a bit odd, waking up and seeing brooms, carpets and flying chariots cruising outside. Even though we've been here before—"

Heidi nodded. "One never really gets used to it, I know."

"Shamballah was a bit like this," Ginny said.

"Yes," Jasmine said, turning towards her. "What _was_ Shamballah like?"

"The city was huge, though it isn't as large as the largest Muggle cities. It had a lot of tall buildings, and the tallest one was about thirty-five hundred feet tall. The city wasn't filled with buildings, though. There were large open spaces filled with plant-life, as if there were a conscious effort to include nature. I guess you'll have to see it for yourself."

"What about the people? Did they look like us?" Hannah asked.

"Some did, but they were a minority. I think most species capable of interbreeding have done so to some extent," Ginny said, remembering all the exotic-looking people.

"Funny, though, I didn't read anything about Shamballah in Pecos Bill's book."

"From what I understand, Pecos Bill spend most of his time on the opposite side of the Mirror Realm. It's a big place."

"Charlie and I talked about moving there for a few years," Jasmine said. "The Magi-zoological Institute really wants to continue mapping out the Mirror Realm's fauna, and with the possibility for continuous travel now established, they're looking for volunteers."

Ginny frowned. "What about Charlie Jr? Even if we've now got a working gate, it won't be easy to reach you in the Mirror Realm."

"We're going to ask him when he's back for Christmas. If he'd rather have us closer by, we won't go. If he says it's okay, Molly could be his temporary guardian while we're away."

"Wow, that would be quite an adventure," Hannah said enviously. "But where would you live? Do you really think it would be safe there? I read in Pecos Bill's book that the Mirror Realm is a pretty wild land."

"Apparently not Shamballah and it's fiefs. Anyway, my cousin Nicolai managed to forge some connections that would greatly help Charlie on his way with regards to his research, and our lodgings," Jasmine said, though she looked a bit sceptical.

Ginny smirked. Jasmine wasn't privy to the knowledge of Nicolai's Royal status in Shamballah, though she probably would have found out easily enough if she'd employed her Mind Reading gift. If she only knew…

"What are you smiling about?" Hannah asked.

"Work-related business. Nothing I can talk about here."

"Then we won't ask," Heidi said resolutely. "So, did you come to take Richie and Holly home? Should I began singing the 'So Long, Farewell' song?"

Ginny smiled. Whenever it was time to go, and Ginny separated Holly from the toys, her dear daughter began to wail and throw tantrums as if she'd never be allowed to return. The song Heidi always sang went a long way towards calming her down.

"Not right now. Harry wanted to see the kids right away, but we'll be going home to spend some quality grownup time with each other."

_"Really?"_ Hannah leered and waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Yes, _really_. We're married, you know! There's no need to be so juvenile about it."

"If you want Harry to have some energy left for you, you'd better rescue him from the children," Jasmine said, regarding the snowball fight outside.

"No, I'll let him play for a while. Experience has taught me that his _playful mood_ won't go away for hours!"

"Hey, don't flaunt your good fortune in front of the less fortunate," Heidi grumbled, and the temperature in Ginny's intestines dropped momentarily. Then she noticed the twinkle in Heidi's eyes, which told her that Heidi wasn't as bothered by the absence of a love life as she used to be.

Ginny reached over and took Heidi's hand. "_Thank you_ for making it possible."

Heidi shrugged, then fondly gazed at the children playing in the room. "There are days when I'd rather be by myself, but they're few and far between. I really love my children." She sighed. "It would be nice to have some of my own someday."

"If you want to meet a man, you'll have to go out there," Jasmine said impatiently.

"She shouldn't settle for just any man, though," Hannah said cautiously. She turned to Heidi. "Maybe you ought to consider a matchmaker—a good one, of course. I know it seems old-fashioned, but I've heard nothing but good stories about the legitimate matchmakers."

Heidi shook her head. "My mother and father were match made. They got along well enough, but there was no love there. After my dad's _embarrassing mistake_ with the quarter-giantess—that's the way his family sees it—they didn't take any chances. And it's not like they haven't tried to marry me off ever since I came of age. Ugh, they wanted to marry me off to my fifth cousin, never minding that the _blödes arschloch_ tried to fondle me at a Gravenstein family reunion when he was sixteen and I was ten. They wouldn't believe me when I told them. Or perhaps they believed me, but they put their greed before my wellbeing."

"That's horrible!"

"I was their ticket back into the Gravenstein ancestral castle, and they were too keen on getting back into it to care about my feelings." Heidi shuddered. "They didn't even care how awkward it would be for me to marry someone with the same surname."

"They wanted you to marry another Gravenstein?"

Heidi nodded. "He's the eldest son of the eldest son of the castle's current master. They're the original German Gravensteins," she continued to explain. "My great-grandfather is the first Austrian-born Gravenstein. My great-great-grandfather was the youngest out of five sons sired by the contemporary lord of the castle, and the elder sons were married off to German pureblood wives. There were no pureblood wives left for my great-great-grandfather in any of the neighbouring states, so they looked for a wife in Austria. My great-great grandfather moved to Austria, which is how the Austrian branch came to be."

"Your husband-to-be was Karl von Gravenstein, eh?" Jasmine said grimly.

"Have you met him?" Heidi asked.

"Unfortunately!" Jasmine snorted. "Anastasiou sent me to snoop on your German kin once. I posed as Paula Rheinhart's niece. Karl tried to grope me as well, and I hexed his privates off for his insolence. I was thirteen— you know, I think he groped us both in the same year. I'm about two and a half years older than you are, so the times match."

Hannah gasped. "You hexed off his John Thomas?"

"His cojones too. I left him looking like a Ken doll." Jasmine nodded to an undressed male doll that was pacing about impatiently, waiting to get dressed.

Heidi, Ginny and Hannah giggled.

Jasmine shook her head. "They're not pleasant people. Lots like the Malfoys, actually. Manic about pure blood and all that, and not squeamish about using Dark spells and artefacts."

"I know. Thankfully my grandaunt Isane reminded my grandfather and the others who wanted me to marry Karl, of our German cousins' sympathy for Voldemort in the first war. In the end, they decided that associating with our German kin too closely wouldn't do their image any good in Austria, so they abandoned their plan."

Ginny nodded and took another sip of her chocolate. She certainly understood Heidi's aversion to matchmaking. It inevitably meant family interference.

"No, her Austrian relatives weren't Voldemort supporters, Hannah," Jasmine spoke up. She turned to Heidi. "Hannah was wondering about that, but she didn't have the nerve to bring it up."

Ginny frowned, but she knew that Jasmine wouldn't have touched on the subject without a good reason. Hannah looked mortified and began to stammer an apology.

Heidi smiled and raised her hand to forestall the apology. "That all right, Hannah. I myself was wondering whether any of you would ask that question."

Which was why Jasmine got it out in the open! Ginny caught Jasmine's eye, and her eldest sister-in-law smiled a bit bashfully, probably doubting the wisdom of her action despite the fact that she had known that Heidi had been okay with it.

"It's simple, really," Heidi explained. "My father was the only pureblood in his generation of Gravensteins, and I am the only one in mine. Grand Uncle Titus married a Muggle-born witch and Grand Uncle Gustav a halfblooded one with a Muggle parent. So my father's Gravenstein cousins aren't purebloods and their children aren't either, according to the minimal pureblood standard. Our German kin, however, did manage to remain purebloods, though Grand Aunt Isane tells me marriages between second cousins became the norm rather than the exception because of that."

"Makes for a pretty shallow gene pool," Jasmine said derisively. "I suppose that's why so many of them have the same chins and noses."

Heidi grinned. "So it _wasn't_ just my imagination! Anyway, since my closer relatives aren't pureblood, they didn't have any reason to support Voldemort—stop flinching, Hannah, he's been dead for ten years and he's not coming back."

"Sorry … I'm not as brave as you three," Hannah said softly.

Ginny laughed. "I wouldn't be so sure. It takes a lot of guts to marry into the Weasley family."

"Thanks, Ginny," Hannah said gratefully.

"Aunt Jasmine," a complaining voice wailed. "The boys are bothering our dolls!"

Ginny looked in the children's direction and saw that the boys had abandoned their gobstones game in favour of pestering the girls. Michael Faust was trying to force a struggling Ken into an evening gown, while Nathan Kelly was doing his best to decapitate Malibu Barbie. Henry was timidly trying to persuade them to stop. Richie and Xander had grabbed the opportunity to play with the older boys' gobstones.

"Nathan, Michael," Jasmine said sharply. "Should I tell your mothers that you've been behaving badly?"

"We want to play too," Michael protested.

"Then you should play nicely, and not try to break the dolls."

"Yes, Aunt Jasmine," Nathan and Michael droned simultaneously, before they dropped the dolls and headed towards the door.

"Hold it, you can't go outside without your coat!" Jasmine flicked her wand a few times, and a pair of cloaks, scarves and hats soared off their pegs to wrap themselves around the boys. "Right, _now_ you're ready."

Ginny whistled. "Impressive charm work."

"Runs in the family," a male voice sounded from the doorway. Ron was leaning against the doorjamb nonchalantly, with Harry one step behind him, looking like several emotions were fighting for supremacy within. Ron glanced around the room. "So you've turned the place into a day care centre, eh?"

"Honestly, Ron," Ginny began. "What are you—you've seen this place before—why are you even here? Did something happen in England?" she asked, feeling a slight panic coming on.

"That's not Ron," Jasmine said brusquely. "I don't think you came back to celebrate Christmas with us, did you, _brother_?"

* * *

X

* * *

Harry impatiently eyed the disguised Wolfe as they hovered above the eastern part of the forest, where it met the hills. Try as he might, he couldn't read Wolfe's mind. It was locked up tightly.

Not too far beneath them, a trio of very tall redwood trees swayed in the—thankfully—very gentle breeze, for a stiff wind would have made the cold much more unpleasant. Wolfe had suggested that they take a pair of brooms and go flying. To any observer it would seem like a couple of friends having picked out a crisp cold day to go for a ride. To the east he saw crowds of people using the snow-covered hills for sledding, including the Citadel's hill. His enhanced eyesight enabled him to see Aberforth escort some kids off the slopes.

"Yamato is coming," Wolfe said abruptly. "He'll try to cross through the gate tomorrow."

Years of training had taught Harry to curb his emotional responses to bad news, and his thoughts remained clinical. There was something else he needed to know first. "Does Ron know that you're impersonating him?"

Wolfe shook his head. "I broke into _The Burrow _and plucked his hair off a comb. Don't worry, I didn't have to break the wards to get in," he added, upon seeing Harry's disapproving frown. "Apparently I'm not blacklisted there yet."

"The girls are redheads too. How did you know which strands were Ron's?"

"It was easy. I can smell the difference between male and female hair."

"How did you get into Concordia?"

"The illegal way."

"Let me guess—with a different face? The Thieves' Fellowship has the means of detecting Polyjuiced people," Harry pointed out. "Or can you become invisible without a cloak, too?"

"No, but _you_ should be able to."

Harry blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"It's part of the powers bestowed upon us by Novoridu's Talismans." Wolfe sighed. "You haven't been practising, have you? Had you done so, you would have discovered it by now. You can already render yourself intangible, right?"

"And how would _you_ know what powers _I_ have?"

"I already told you, the plans are in our minds. When I discovered that power, I searched for it. I didn't find it inside of me, so we can conclude that you must have it."

"What if you're imagining things?"

"Come on, Harry, you know better than to ask that question."

Wolfe's superior attitude was beginning to annoy Harry, even though he was right, which annoyed Harry even more. "Well, did you discover any other spiffy new powers?"

"I can duplicate myself thirty-one times now, and I can sustain a single duplicate for eight whole days. I have upped my number of Animagus forms to sixty-seven. As far my new powers are concerned, I've learned to grow as big as a large giant, and as small as a pixie. I've also uncovered Meta-morph magic, though I'm obviously not proficient yet, or else I wouldn't have had to use Polyjuice Potion."

"Bloody hell, I'm beginning to think I was short-changed when the powers were divided."

Wolfe shook his head. "I'm sure that we each got half—and can we go back to the original subject?"

Harry knew better than to ask Wolfe if he was certain about Yamato's impending visit. "How did you find out that Yamato will try to cross the gate tomorrow? There's going to be a lot of security. It would be more prudent for him to wait."

"He doesn't have that much time anymore, and there isn't any place for him to run to. I assume you know that—since leaving the Order—I've been doing my best to convince the underworld that working with Yamato will earn them my immediate animosity, which is very bad for their health."

Harry failed to suppress a small shiver as he remembered Medea Aconit's fate. "Go on."

"The day before yesterday, a former supplier of his turned him away to avoid risking my … _displeasure_."

Harry smiled wryly. That was the understatement of the century. "He must have heard about your visit to that Dark wizard tavern, _Hellekuil_, in the Netherlands."

"How can you be sure that it was me?" Wolfe asked with a stony expression on his face.

"Only you could have caused that much devastation without drawing a wand."

"I could have been a vampire."

"The vampires who are old and powerful enough to pull off something like that all had an alibi. Besides, they wouldn't have walked away from the blood-flow buffet your swordplay caused. I wonder, though, why you didn't kill any of them. Why did you only cut off limbs, specifically, an arm and leg off each one?"

"So they can devote the rest of their lives to contemplating the ultimate cost of their decision to turn evil."

"An arm and a leg?"

Wolfe smirked. "Just giving them a _leg_ up into the realities of life … _arm_ them with the necessary perspective."

Harry couldn't believe that Wolfe was just laughing off his brutality like that. "You've never been funny, Wolfe, and now isn't the time to start."

"Whatever you say, kid." Wolfe's smirk evaporated into a grave expression. "While you might not see the humour in it, you _will_ understand its effectiveness."

Harry shrugged. "So it intimidated _one_ wizard into turning him away."

"Zhang wasn't the first one to turn Yamato away."

That name rang a bell. A wizard black-marketer by the same name had been found dead the previous day. Harry didn't know the specifics yet, but it had been pretty ugly. "The Shanghai smuggler?"

"My guess is that Yamato got desperate after having been turned down by others. He probably thought that Zhang's death would frighten the others into re-establishing co-operation, and it probably would have, save for one variable."

"Which was?"

"Master Lei taught me that, when trapped between two fires, people tend to try and defy or put out the less threatening one in order to escape." Wolfe's predatory grin made Harry's skin crawl. "They're more afraid of _me_. Early this morning, local Indian time, Yamato went back to the people who had previously turned him away, but it seems his previous allies and suppliers have marked him for death. He'd have walked into a trap if he hadn't been so paranoid."

"What happened?"

"Yamato has created several golems that look exactly like him. He can control them from afar when they impersonate him. One of the golems was destroyed. I already suspected him of having some kind of decoy, since at times certain activities seemed to suggest that he was in two places at once."

"Our operatives heard nothing about a decoy."

"The Order's informants are too low in the criminal hierarchy for the news to have filtered down to them in a single day, and seeing that it happened less than twelve hours ago—"

"They don't know about this yet," Harry finished. "Which makes me wonder how you found out so quickly."

"The Dark Trolls leave me messages in designated places. Yamato thinks they obey him, but they still consider me their master."

"What?" Harry exclaimed. "Then why didn't you order them to kill Yamato?"

"Gee, could you have been a little louder?" Wolfe said sarcastically.

"All right," Harry whispered. "It's a valid question, though. Don't tell me you didn't do it because you want to kill Yamato personally."

"That is _part_ of the reason, but not the main one. Like I said, he has decoys, and I knew of them _before_ I allowed the Dark Trolls to infiltrate. Yamato is no fool, and I know he wouldn't trust the trolls in his presence."

"They only got to see the decoys?"

"In their messages they told me that they only saw him for a few hours every day, after which he retired to a heavily shielded room. Sort of sounds like a doll going back into a closet to recharge, doesn't it?"

Harry nodded in agreement. It certainly sounded like that. However, it also sounded like Yamato was too weak to attempt a storming of the Umbral Gate. "I don't mean to sound cocky, but from the way you describe things I gather that he'll never be able to get past the Order, even if he does make it into Nomad Island. How was he planning to do that, by the way?"

"Through memories of my time with the parasitic personality, I know that he still has a reasonable amount of resources tucked away. He can easily create a breach in Nomad Island's anti-teleportation wards, like the Order and the Thieves Fellowship do, and he can launch a reasonably effective diversionary assault that will tie up any defenders long enough for him to make a dash at the gate."

"If the attack is less intense than the one at Laketown, it can easily be stopped before he gets the chance to reach the gate, especially if you help too."

"With either of us present, his attempt would be doomed." Wolfe nodded. "He doesn't know that I'm here—and I'm certain that he doesn't have any spies here who can alert him to the fact that Ron Weasley was in two places at once—so that leaves only you to lure away from Nomad Island. It'll happen shortly before the start of the opening ceremony."

"But now that you've warned me, I won't go."

Wolfe heaved an annoyed sigh. "Have you forgotten everything I ever taught you? He'll pick targets which deprive you of that choice."

The bottom dropped out of Harry's stomach and cold sweat broke out of his pores despite the cold. Ron, Hermione, and the rest of the Weasleys were in danger. "I have to leave for England immediately!"

"Calm down. He needs you away when he makes his move here, remember? If he launches his diversionary attack in England too early, you'll defeat his forces and be back before he gets the chance to make a run for the gate. My guess is he'll do it about forty-five minutes to an hour before the start of the ceremony, tomorrow. The ceremony starts at four, so that's three 'o clock, to be on the safe side."

"Still, we've got to get the Weasleys out of there," Harry said anxiously.

"If the Weasleys just disappear without any explanation, Yamato will suspect that something is up."

"Then he'll abort his plan."

"No, he won't. He'll probably pick Diagon Alley as a new target. Several of your school friends work there, don't they? Tomorrow's Christmas Eve, and it will be packed with people."

"Damn it!" Harry cursed.

"The Weasleys will have to be bait until the last possible moment, but with a few Portkeys we can ensure that they're whisked out of harm's way on time. I don't like the plan either," Wolfe said earnestly. "But if we keep Yamato's attention focussed on the Weasleys, we can save a lot of lives. It would be much harder to keep everyone in Diagon Alley safe."

"You're right," Harry said through clenched teeth.

Wolfe made no reply to that. Instead, he nodded to the city. "Let's fly a few laps before going back home. Then we'll head to the Citadel to inform Faust and Sanzotti."

* * *

XXX

* * *

**Gogirl**: About the review you got; if the reviewer took time to point out what you were doing wrong and why, and offered tips on how to improve, it's constructive too. But I see what you mean. There has to be something good somewhere in you fic, right? Be very careful with the " I realised that it was only one negative review out of a bunch of positive" attitude, though. Read the story Awakenings by ThePainBelow and the review I left to see what I mean. It is the only critical review among 58, but if that author only listens to the ass-kissers any future improvement is out of the question.

About your other question; Funny that you brought it up. :-)

**aznanarchy**: I'm glad you liked the idea of the Doxy Anti-venom. I knew that Nicolai would never be enticed to do something irresponsible if he could help it, so I had to put him in a state where he had no control.

**glitter8262**: Don't hesitate to review also if you think you see an apparent flaw in the fic.

**Chloe Black**: I too hate it when I don't have access to the net. My sympathies.

**NCDSbookworm**: Have fun, wherever you are.

**blah29**: Chapter 4 was intentionally a slow one, the calm before the storm of the next couple of chapters.

**maaike-fluffy**: Ik heb zo lang geen Nederlands meer geschreven, dus neem mij eventuele grammaticale fouten niet kwalijk.

Zo, leuk om een lezer uit eigen land tegen te komen. Bedankt voor je feedback. Wat de personage Dagobert Wortelgraaf betreft had ik eigenlijk geen grote rol in gedachte. Er komt echter wel een nieuwe Nederlandse Ranger bij, en die zal een iets uitgebreidere rol hebben. Zou je misschien een naam willen voorstellen? :-) Je mag haar ook naar jezelf vernoemen … dan krijg je elke keep dat ze in het verhaal verschijnt een soort cameo. Of het mag een totaal verzonnen naam zijn. (Ik kan mij best voorstellen dat jij enige anonimiteit wilt behouden en je echte naam voor jezelf wilt houden.) Anyway, als je interesse hebt kun je het per e-mail laten weten.

Ja, ik heb het werk van Caitlyn zeker gelezen, hoewel het nu al een tijd geleden is. Ik kan het echter niet nadoen omdat de oudste zoon van Harry en Ginny nog geen drieëneenhalf is op dit tijdstip in het verhaal.

**Infinite13**: I 'm happy to hear you find my stories so captivating,

**Fragarach**: I see you caught the "sound-effect." And you were right about Sleeping with the Enemy. Point to you.

**Foxfur**: Point to you for seeing the Star Trek connection. As for Mary being a bit spoiled; her father _is_ the richest wizard in the world.

**Bluerain22**: Oh, don't worry. I'll definitely finish the series before going back to canonise it. (if I choose to do so)

**Elric Magus**: Wow, you took the time to review almost every chapter of Union and Mind War. And you've reviewed all the chapters here too. Thanks!!! Glad my explanation for Nicolai knocking Mary up lived up to your expectations. I was a bit uncertain about whether it would be good enough for my readers.

**Lioness-07863**: Not to worry, there will be a chart at some point.


	6. Preconceptions about Redheads

Chapter 6

**Preconceptions about Redheads**

Ginny was glad to have followed her instincts when Harry turned up in the Citadel's atrium, accompanied by Faust. When Wolfe whisked Harry off for a private chat, she had known that whatever had driven Wolfe to return to Concordia had to be grave enough to warrant the attention of the Order of Illumination. The look on Harry's face confirmed her fears.

"Uh, it was very nice to meet you three," Ginny said quickly, returning her attention to three young witches in their early twenties, all of them prospective Artificers. They'd received a tour of the non-restricted areas of the Citadel, as well as interviews with Yousef and Commander Sanzotti. Yousef had been about to escort them back to Concordia when Ginny popped out of a portal.

"The honour was all ours, Mrs Potter," Farah, the Iranian witch replied.

Ginny shrugged. "No need for such formality. Ginny will do."

"It isn't a matter of formality. My wife is simply ashamed of me," Harry said, as he and Faust drew nearer. "Hi, I'm Harry Potter."

For a few seconds the three women were too awed to answer. Farah was the quickest to regain her wits—relatively speaking. "I know," was her breathy answer.

Yousef cleared his throat. "Ladies, the moustache next to Mr Potter is the honourable Commander Faust."

"I tolerate no such insolence from non-officers, so you'll refer to me as _Commander_ Moustache, should you chose to join the Order of Illumination."

The women shared a giggle, before Farah spoke up again. "I can't speak for the others, but I will certainly be here next summer—and what a cute hamster you have!"

It was only then that Ginny noticed a grey hamster sitting on Faust's shoulder. Its coat made it hard to spot against Faust's uniform.

Despite his moustache, Ginny saw Faust get a wicked smile on his face. "Yes, _cute_, isn't he? Would you like to hold him? His name is Max."

Ginny's eyed widened with surprise, and she shot her husband a questioning look, which he answered with a nod and a grin. It was Wolfe!

Farah squealed with delight and immediately snatched _Max_ off Faust's shoulder, and began to stroke his coat and rub his belly while making cooing noises to the increasingly irritated hamster.

"I think he's had enough," Harry said quickly, and summoned Wolfe out of Farah's hands with a casual gesture. "It's been nice meeting you, ladies. Hopefully I'll learn your names this summer."

"Oh, sorry, it was rude of us to forget," Farah said. "My name is Farah Fatemi, from Iran."

Harry's eyebrows went up. "Muggle-born?"

"Not quite. You could call me a second generation Muggle-born. My father is a Muggle-born wizard, and my mother is a Muggle. How did you know?"

"Purebloods and half-bloods still call your country Persia. We have neighbours three doors down, across the street behind us, who are from Iran—purebloods," Harry explained.

Ginny nodded. The neighbours in question were an elderly couple of retired carpet weavers. "The Sanjabis. I understand their carpets are famous throughout the East."

Farah's eyes lit up in recognition, and she nodded. "I went to school with their granddaughter."

A short silence followed, as the two remaining witches decided amongst themselves who would go first. Elisa, a short, rail thin Latin American witch with thigh-length black hair, took a deep breath, as if she was about to shout her identity out loud. Nothing could have been further from the truth.

"Elisa Gimenez … Honduras," she said in a barely audible tone, blushing profusely with all the attention focussed on her.

"I'm Matsepa Karabo, from Lesotho," the last witch identified herself to Harry, flashing him a broad grin full of big, pearly white teeth. "I'm almost late for my Portkey back home."

"Then we won't keep you." Harry smiled brightly. Part of his good cheer probably came from tormenting Wolfe. He was stroking Wolfe's hamstery head so vigorously that the beady little black eyes bulged with every backwards stroke.

After the women and Yousef had left, Ginny rounded on Harry and Captain Faust.

Wolfe jumped out of Harry's hands and transformed into a black raven, flapping his way to the floor. Then he transformed back to human form. He wasn't Ron anymore.

Harry's sudden weary look almost made her change her mind, but she held onto her decision. "Harry, tell me what's going on, and don't you dare withhold anything important!"

"Will the short version do?" he pleaded.

"All right."

He flashed her a grateful smile. "In a nutshell, Wolfe gave us some information that leads to strong suspicions about an attack at the Umbral Gate's opening ceremony tomorrow. Yamato is getting cornered in this realm, so we think he'll try to flee to the Mirror Realm. To accomplish this he'll have to draw security around the gate away, and _me_ in particular. That's why we believe that he'll try to lure me away from Nomad Island by attacking our family in England."

"We're already taking steps to ensure that your family won't get hurt," Faust added quickly. "Unfortunately, we can't evacuate them just yet."

"Bollocks! Why not?"

Harry groaned. "Ginny, I don't like it either. But if we take the family to a safe place now, Yamato will probably pick Diagon Alley for an attack. All those last-minute shoppers…"

Ginny swallowed hard. Many of her friends would be in Diagon Alley. "I …understand," she said reluctantly. "But you'll do everything you can to protect them, right?"

Faust nodded. "We'll send anyone we can spare. I've already diverted both patrols to England."

"I'll be going too, of course," Harry said.

Ginny planted her hands on her hips. "If you're going, I want to go too," she said, resolutely. "Heidi can watch the kids for us."

"They'll be evacuated to the Citadel," Faust said.

The look in her husband's eyes told her that his protective instincts were playing up again, but he relented. "I know better than to try and stop you."

"Go home. Get some rest," Faust suggested. "You'll need it if you're going to take on whatever Yamato plans to throw at your family."

"Thank you, Commander," Ginny said, while she linked her arm through Harry's.

Then they travelled to the portal closest to their home, stopping at The Wolfe's Den to pick up the children and an unexpected meal cooked by Heidi, sparing Ginny the need to make anything. Heidi, bless her, had anticipated her need to discuss Wolfe's return with Harry.

The Potters dug in, devouring the brown rice and the baked salmon seasoned with garlic, lemon juice, parsley, and basil. Richard had to be forced to eat at least some of his steamed broccoli and carrots. After dinner, Harry bathed the children and put them to bed after reading them a short bedtime story, while Ginny used that time to set up the bedroom. Heidi's salmon dinner had done wonders for their spirits, so Ginny had decided to go through with the original plan.

She had lit numerous scented candles and spread rose petals over the bed. She had also hidden a small preservation basket containing chocolate fudge, whipped cream, and strawberries, under the bed. Then, she hurried to the bathroom and filled their large bathtub with warm water and bath foam. Her training in the healing arts had taught her that the water's temperature would detract from a man's fertility, but Harry wasn't in the habit of soaking in warm baths and she was a Weasley, so it wouldn't do any harm in their case.

It wasn't that she didn't worry about her family. She knew, however, that her family was as safe as possible for the time being, and she was not about to let Yamato's antics dictate her sex life. If Harry wasn't in the mood, she was sure she could get him in the mood by jumping into the bathtub with him.

As she took off her clothes and slipped into a fluffy bathrobe, she pondered how she'd tell him about wanting a baby…in the immediate future.

"Ginny, what's all this?" Harry asked, walking in just as she finished tying the knot of her robe's belt.

There was nothing else for it. She could sugar coat it, but it was probably best to hit him with it right between the eyes. "We should have another baby."

He frowned. "_Now?_ Ginny, I'm not sure this is the best time—"

"Harry, I know you're worried about the future, but worrying too much means letting evil rule your life. Mum had Percy and the twins when it was clear the Voldemort was gaining influence, and she had Ron, and then me, when he was at the height of his power."

"I remember you and Ron telling me that you two were the result of the Birth-Control Charm's ineffectiveness against the Weasley legions."

Ginny shrugged. "I guess it was fate."

Harry smiled slowly. "You've been practising that line, haven't you?"

Ginny grinned. "Nope. It just came to me."

"You won't take no for an answer, will you?"

"Not a chance."

"Stubborn wench!" Harry sighed theatrically. "I guess it's my own fault. Why did I marry a redhead?"

Ginny laughed. "If you don't want a sample of the redhead temper, you'd best apologise for that."

"And if I don't?"

"You can sleep with Hedwig in the attic."

Harry gasped, pretending shock. "In that case, I sincerely apologise."

"I'd believe you more easily if you were on your knees," Ginny teased.

Harry got down on his knees. "Better?"

"Much."

"Now that we're okay again, I'd like to indulge you, but I might need some additional motivation," Harry said, as he slowly shuffled on his knees towards her.

Glancing down at his trousers, Ginny saw that he wouldn't need _that_ much additional motivation. After all, they had been separated for nearly a month.

X

* * *

X 

Wolfe stood on the battlements of the Citadel of Illumination, drawing in deep breaths of fresh air in an attempt to clear the scent of shampoo out of his nostrils. His lifestyle over the past year-and-a-half hadn't always allowed for daily, or even weekly baths, so he welcomed every opportunity he got. Still, he liked all his senses unimpeded, and the shampoo overwhelmed his olfactory abilities.

The lights of Concordia diminished slowly as the minutes ticked on. It meant that people were turning in for the night, and that fewer people would notice his approach, if anyone at all would notice a Great Grey Owl soaring to one of the homes. Though mail to Concordia was Portkeyed in crates, many people still used owls to send notes to one another, since less than half of the Concordians owned magical communication mirrors. The Ranger households had them primarily for contact with the Citadel, though they were linked to the city's mirror grid.

Wolfe took a running jump off the defensive wall and transformed in mid-air. He'd barely lost any altitude before he started winging his way to the city, taking care to fly at the altitude reserved for post owls.

A small window near the top of The Wolfe's Den was still open, but Wolfe knew that soaring through it would be tough. Since his Great Grey Owl form was among the largest of owls, he'd have to pull in his wings almost completely to drop through the hole, and unfold them in time if he expected to make a soft landing. He allowed some avian instincts to take over as he began his descent, aiming high to compensate for the sudden loss of altitude, and he was in!

One of the lesser support beams creaked slightly under the sudden increase in pressure as Wolfe changed back to his normal form. He remained in a crouch and extracted his wand from its holster and willed it to illuminate the attic. He saw there hadn't been any major changes in his absence, save for an observation deck of some sort. There was also an unfamiliar telescope next to his old one.

With a gesture he opened the hatch to the first floor, and a magical rope ladder with wooden steps rolled down. Remembering the noise that always used to accompany the process, he immediately cast a Silencing Charm on it. He didn't want Heidi to curse first and ask questions later. He didn't know whether she would pick a lethal one, but _he_ certainly would, if someone managed to sneak into such a heavily warded place.

Not needing the rope ladder, he simply jumped down and slowed to a feather fall with a carefully cast Levitation Charm. The sound of a sweet voice singing, accompanied by water droplets hitting a tiled floor told him that Heidi was in the shower.

He quietly walked over to the bathroom, peeking through the slight aperture. Mist and matted glass obscured the details of Heidi's body, but the femininity was still evident enough to make Wolfe swallow and keep him rooted to the spot, halfway between inability and unwillingness to move. His entrancement was finally broken when Heidi stopped rinsing the lather out of her hair and reached for the shower knobs.

The scent of chocolate cake baking in the oven told him that Heidi still had to go downstairs to take it out, so he quietly descended the stairs. Once in the living room, Caesar came running up to him and leapt into his arms. Wolfe took a moment to pet the Crup before putting him down. Then he made sure that all the blinds in the living room and in the kitchen were properly closed, lest a pair of unwelcome eyes notice his presence, before casting the strongest Privacy Charm he could muster, to supplement the existing ones.

His favourite armchair wasn't there anymore, so he sat on a sofa that faced the stairs and waited, the ever-increasing scent of freshly baked cake heralding Heidi's imminent return. She returned right when Max decided that she might have forgotten about the cake, and he'd had been about to take it out of the oven himself.

Heidi stood, frozen in mid-step, at the bottom of the stairs. The flickering firelight from the hearth created continuously shifting highlights across her form-fitting nightdress of sapphire blue silk charmeuse. Almost involuntarily, Wolfe's eyes travelled from the slender straps at the shoulder, down across the snug bodice with its open keyhole front and a delicate bow closure worked in silk cord. His gaze continued to be drawn further down, past the slender fitted waist and hips to the legs, one of which was still extended as if to take a step, and the silk had slid back along one of the side-slits, revealing her smooth right leg to mid thigh. For the second time that night, Wolfe was forced to swallow hard.

"Don't let the cake burn," was the first thing Wolfe said, much to his own immediate chagrin. A polite greeting would have been much better, but years of training had conditioned him to prioritise emergencies over formalities. It was bad enough that he had come at what certainly seemed to be a bad time. Dressed in a gown like that, Heidi had to be expecting some male company.

Heidi opened her mouth, intending to say something, but then closed it as she smelled the cake, deciding to deal with it first.

Wolfe followed her a few seconds after she had rushed into the kitchen to get the cake out of the oven, and he found her ineffectually flicking her wand in an attempt to summon the cake out of it. Her mind was in turmoil, and he realised that she was far too shocked and upset to do any kind of magic. With a gesture, he opened the oven door and summoned the cakepans.

"Where do I put it?" he asked, while keeping the cakepans aloft.

It took a while for Heidi to convey her wishes, but she eventually pointed to a wire rack resting on top of the kitchen cabinet, next to the sink.

"Cooling Charms?"

Heidi shook her head. "It will taste better if it cools by itself," she began, and having gained back some composure, fixed him with a burning glare in her bright, chocolate brown eyes. Her lips quivered and her nostrils flared, and her cheeks reddened with anger. He couldn't face the accusing look in those bright brown pools which had haunted his dreams almost every night in the nightmarish time since Galatea's death, replaying the argument they'd had about his departure. "What are you doing here?"

He forced his gaze back up to meet hers. "I … wanted to see my sons."

"Dropping off a Christmas present for them?" Heidi said scornfully. "A little late for that, don't you think?"

For some reason, Heidi's words hurt terribly. Even though he'd committed several acts that had required the coldest of dispositions and had icy armour insulating his heart and preventing him from mercy and compassion, Heidi's words drilled through the ice and stabbed at his heart's most vulnerable spot. The sudden change from near-perpetual emotional numbness to this pain was almost unbearable.

"Did you know what Henry wanted for Christmas last year?" she continued relentlessly. "He wanted his father back! You have some nerve to show up here just like—" Her whispered tirade stopped suddenly, and her angry look was replaced by a mixture of confusion and disbelief. She looked at him as if he were growing a second head.

The feeling of something warm trickling down his cheeks surprised Wolfe. He touched his fingers to his face, and they came away wet with tears. His whole life he had been taught that crying was a sign of weakness. The last time he'd cried for real he was four years old. He'd made one exception in his adult life—when Master Lei had died—and only because Master Lei, in his final moments, had given Wolfe implicit permission to do so. It wasn't that he had never felt like crying, but rather that he'd never allowed himself to succumb to the urge. Now, however, he'd been unable to prevent it. The tears had taken him completely by surprise, almost as if his eyes were reacting involuntarily to chemicals.

A profound feeling of shame washed over him as he realised that, no matter how justified it may have been, his departure _had_ been selfish. He could have persuaded the Order of Illumination to give Yamato and Medea Aconit a higher priority, but he had known that, as a Ranger, he wouldn't have been allowed to satisfy his need for pure, unadulterated revenge.

He turned to leave, but Heidi quickly reached over and grabbed his elbow. "Max, I'm sorry. I thought you didn't care—but if that were true, you wouldn't be—I've never seen you cry," she finished quietly, as she led him to the sofa and sat him down.

Wolfe lowered his gaze to the floor, not bothering to wipe his tears. Very few people had ever seen him cry.

She knelt on the thick carpet in front of him and took his face between her hands, tilting his face upwards and forcing him to look her in the eyes. "Don't leave yet, all right? You can see the boys."

Heidi had that look of divine compassion in her eyes. The warmth she was exuding melted away more of his icy emotional barriers. In an attempt to avoid the torture those eyes were inflicting upon his soul, he quickly lowered his gaze further, getting a spectacular view down Heidi's nightdress. The sight of a pink nipple forced his eyes to seek a more respectable staring point, and after dismissing those beautiful, slightly parted lips as a possibility, he settled on her nose.

He groaned. Coming here had been a mistake. Whatever Yamato had planned for the opening needed ruthless opposition, but with Heidi chipping away at his defences, it suddenly promised to become very difficult. He covered her hands with his and pulled them off his face. "I shouldn't be here."

"Nonsense. You had the decency to come back to see Robert and Henry, so the least I could do is let you. Have you eaten?" she continued. "Too bad I gave the salmon leftovers to Caesar," she muttered to herself. "But I could fix you something. What would you like?"

"Nothing … I really should leave. I know this is a bad time, I mean, what will your gentleman caller think if he sees me here?"

Heidi gave him an awkward look. "What—_gentleman caller_? I'm not seeing anyone."

"You're not?"

"I'm not. What would you think that?"

Embarrassment and hope struggling for supremacy in his mind made it impossible to come up with an evasive yet plausible answer. "Well—I just thought—with such a beautiful nightdress— and it looks like it's meant for—"

"Oh!" Understanding blossomed on Heidi's face, followed by muffled giggles after she had clamped her hands over her mouth. "I suppose you were half right," she said, after she composed herself. "This gown was a birthday present from my grandma. It was her way of hinting that I ought to attract … _gentlemen callers_. Von Nettesheim subtlety!"

"It looks really beautiful on you," Wolfe whispered hoarsely.

Heidi's cheeks flushed red for the second time that evening, though this time the cause was pleasure instead of anger. He felt a pulse of positive emotion emanate out of her, and he had trouble understanding why the compliment had had such a profound effect on her until her wistful, self-depreciatory reply provided the clue. He'd forgotten that, though supremely confident looking on the outside, she'd always been insecure about her looks. That was why she'd always gone to such great lengths to always look her best. "This nightdress could make anyone look beautiful."

"Shakespeare would disagree," Wolfe said. He knew that Heidi was a big fan and would rise to the bait.

Heidi rose from her kneeling position, planted her hands on her hips, and looked down at him sceptically. "Really?"

Wolfe nodded. "_'Tis beauty that doth oft make women proud. 'Tis virtue that doth make them most admired. 'Tis modesty that makes them seem divine_."

"What's your point?"

"That you'd be just as beautiful without that gown—" Wolfe paused, blushing furiously as he realise that it had come out completely wrong. "—uh, I mean, you don't have to be wearing that gown to be beautiful. You have beauty and virtue, and you're modest about it. I bet that even rags would look good on you, and—" His sentence was cut by her mouth covering his.

When he had still been able to think coherently, fifteen seconds ago, the rational part of Wolfe's mind had screamed at him to break the kiss. The rest of him, however, had decided that a little kissing couldn't hurt, after nearly two years without affection of any kind. Now, completely immersed in the glorious feeling of the passionate kiss, he was only dimly aware of Heidi's warm body straddling his lap. The sensation of her hands running through his hair and massaging his scalp fuelled his ardour even further, causing his hands to spring into action, lightly caressing Heidi's back and making her shiver with delight.

Heidi's hands travelled down his sides until her fingers reached the bottom of his waistcoat. She broke their kiss to pull off the waistcoat, and the precious seconds the fumbling took allowed Wolfe to blink the stars out of his eyes and regain control.

"Heidi, this is wrong."

She wriggled on his lap. "That's not what your body is saying," she whispered seductively, and leaned forward to kiss him again. He knew what would happen if he didn't stop her now, so he cupped her face with his hands to prevent her from kissing him.

"If circumstances were different, I'd go along with my body," he said, though he could tell that Heidi felt rejected despite that assurance. He sighed. "The reason I'm here is to tell you that you, Robert, Henry, and all the other Ranger children will be evacuated to the Citadel before the Umbral Gate's opening ceremony tomorrow. I think that Yamato will try to flee to the Mirror Realm tomorrow. I returned to Concordia to warn the Order of Illumination, so they could prepare."

Heidi's disappointment and anger became plainly visible on her face. She lifted her left knee and quickly rolled away from him. "So all that talk about missing the boys—"

"Was true!" He engulfed her hands in his. "I _did _come here to see them. Someone else would have told you about the evacuation in the morning, but I decided to tell you personally, so I would get the chance to see them, and you." He smiled cautiously. "If everything works out, Henry will have his little brother back this Christmas."

"What about his father?" Heidi asked. Her hopeful stare nearly broke his heart.

"Heidi, not wanting to be seen wasn't the only reason I came disguised as Ron. I'm no longer welcome in Concordia—not since Medea Aconit. I can't turn away from my chosen path anymore."

"But Harry—he was allowed—"

"His situation was different … a momentary and accidental loss of control. My situation—torturing Medea Aconit—it was premeditated. I was warned of the consequences beforehand, but I did it anyway."

Wolfe had always known that the path of revenge would be one that he'd have to walk for the rest of his life, and he'd always believed that it wouldn't bother him too much, for he had always been a loner. But now that he had seen Heidi again, he knew that he was in for a lifetime of torture.

"I'll have to keep hunting criminals until there aren't any left, or until one of them manages to get the better of me."

"No, you don't have to!" Heidi freed one of her hands from his grasp and caressed his face. "If you can't come to Concordia, the boys and I can leave to be with you."

"Heidi, I haven't slept much ever since Galatea died. But I wouldn't have been able to sleep at all had it not been for the knowledge that you and the boys were at the safest possible place. _Here_, in Concordia."

"Max, you can't continue to live in fear. Robert will have to leave for school in five years, and the boys will probably want to move out after finishing school. And I don't know if there is anyone, besides Yamato, who would be crazy enough to try something after hearing about Medea Aconit. So, after Yamato is dealt with, tomorrow, there won't be any reason for us not to be able to leave Concordia."

"I wouldn't be able to support us. No one will want to employ me."

"_I_ could go back to work."

Wolfe smiled ruefully. Heidi wasn't going to let it go. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Ask away."

"What made you change your mind about me? You hated me for leaving."

Heidi nodded. "But I also understood why you did it. I lost my father to Anastasiou and my mother to Yamato. Most of my anger went away."

"You weren't too happy to see me earlier."

"The tears told me that you were remorseful. I couldn't continue to be angry with you after I saw them."

Wolfe blushed with embarrassment. "Don't tell anyone about that, all right? The bad guys might think I've gone soft again."

"Your secret is safe with me," Heidi said, smiling sweetly at him. Then her expression turned serious again. "So what do you plan to do after tomorrow? Will you take me up on my offer?"

Wolfe pondered it for a moment. She'd made a compelling argument, and he couldn't find any flaws in her logic. Still, he hadn't dealt with Yamato yet.

"Can I get back to you on that tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow's fine. It'll give me more time to convince you of the wisdom in my suggestion," she whispered, sliding closer and closer to him.

Wolfe knew where she was going with this, but he had no energy left to resist. As she crawled into his lap once more, he surrendered himself to her ministrations.

X

* * *

X 

Wolfe gently stroked Heidi's sweaty back while she lay half on top of him, recovering from their moment of passion, or rather, marathon. He could feel her heart rate slowly return to normal, and she was purring with contentment. Her thoughts were enough to make his ego soar.

He chuckled. "I feel the same way about you."

She lifted her face off his shoulder to look at him. "I bet you say that to all the girls."

"I haven't been with anyone before or after Galatea," he said, feeling a slight pang of guilt even though it was technically true.

He hadn't been with anyone before or after Galatea, but he _had_ been with someone else _during_ Galatea. Even though Maximus had been in control while he'd been intimate with Moira, it was his own fault that Maximus had grown interested in Moira in the first place. He had made it so that Maximus had been able to feel some possessive kind of affection, without which Maximus surely would have opted to destroy her. Still, the fact that it ended up saving Moira's life didn't make Wolfe feel any better about it.

"Anyway, I'm flattered that you think so highly of my prowess between the sheets," Wolfe continued. "Of course, I'm not sure how well the egos of my predecessors would fare if they ever found out about your thoughts."

"Keep your ego in check, mister! You ended an eight-year dry spell, and I can count my lovers on the fingers of one hand. Also, my last lover's heart wasn't really in our relationship." Her mouth quirked in bemused recollection, then she shook her head. "All in all, this could cause my perception of your performance to be a bit skewed."

Wolfe was genuinely surprised to hear about the dry spell. "But… you've had boyfriends after Harry."

Heidi snorted. "More like dates, and I didn't like any of them well enough to allow them to get to know me more intimately."

"Really? As I recall, _we_ went on a date too," Wolfe pointed out.

"At the time, Galatea was your whole world."

"She was," Wolfe said casually, surprising himself with the fact that he could discuss his time with Galatea without slipping into depression. "But that was another lifetime. Now, _you_ are my whole world."

"I could tell," Heidi purred seductively. "Really, Max, I feel like I've been ridden hard and hung out to dry."

Wolfe smiled. Heidi must have learned that particular expression from Gudrun. "Likewise … and you might want to trim your nails. My back still stings."

"Serves you right for keeping me up all night. Where do you get the energy?"

"I could ask you the same thing, woman. I can barely move my legs. Now I know why they discourage athletes to indulge themselves before a competition."

Heidi's brow furrowed. "Max, I'm sorry I didn't tell you this earlier, but I'm not on any kind of birth control. I think I'm in my fertile period, but I swear, I completely forgot. You're not mad, are you?" She asked, eyeing him with apprehension, causing Wolfe to chuckle. Clearly, she'd forgotten that he'd have known if she had been trying to trap him, being a Mind Reader.

Wolfe kissed her forehead. "I know you forgot. I'm not mad, and what happened is as much my responsibility as it is yours. Actually, it's funny." He grinned. "It was the same with Robert. And speaking of the devil, we might want to get decent." He lowered his voice before continuing, because he'd heard the subtle creak of steady pressure being applied to the door. "He's listening outside the door, and we might have some explaining to do."

Heidi groaned. "_Scheisse_."

"I'm sure it won't be that bad."

"It might be," Heidi whispered. "I told him about the birds and the bees last week."

"You did? But he's only six and a half."

"Really, Max, children are curious about these things much earlier than that, and it wasn't the first time that he asked how babies are born. Don't you remember him asking about it when Galatea was pregnant with—" Heidi's voice faltered again.

"It's all right to talk about it, Heidi. And no, I don't think I was around when he asked. Galatea must have told him."

"This time he needed some answers quickly," Heidi giggled. "Rachel Kelly asked him to marry her, so he wanted to know about marriage and … well—"

Wolfe smiled. Like her mother, little Rachel Kelly didn't waste any time. "Heidi, we've done it seven times over the course of the last ten hours. How can you not utter the word sex after all that?" Wolfe teased.

"I can only imagine what _you_ would have done in such a position, mister! Be glad that I dealt with it."

"I _am_ glad," Wolfe lowered his face to Heidi's, gave a quick her peck on the lips before pulling back. "So, how did you handle it?"

"Well, he already knew about the seed from the daddy and the egg from the mummy coming together, and that the baby grew in a special place called the womb. I guess that was enough information for him when Galatea told him about it." Heidi laughed softly. "He asked me the funniest questions, like if the egg was anything like the ones he eats, and if the daddy's seeds need to be watered."

Wolfe chuckled at the innocence of children.

"Yes, he was very hard to please. He also asked me if the baby can hear anything in the tummy, if the baby gets lonely in there, and what sex is."

"Whoa, and what did you say?"

"I explained to him that babies don't get bored very easily."

"And the sex part?"

"I told him that sex is something that moms and dads do to show how much they love each other, and that sometimes men and women can have a baby when they have sex."

Wolfe grinned. "You were threading on dangerous ground with that one. What if he'd asked you to give him a real live demonstration?"

"That just goes to show you that he really is his father's son, because he _did_ ask me. I explained that he couldn't just ask someone to show him, because mummies and daddies and other grownups made babies the special private time alone." Heidi shook her head ruefully. "His next question was how Mary got pregnant, because she wasn't a mummy nor really a grownup either."

Wolfe could understand that. Robert had probably discerned Mary's relative youth. "How did you get out of that one?"

"By telling him truth. I told him that the bodies of boys and girls were ready to make babies before they was completely grownup, but that it was a good idea to wait until you were old enough to have a job and take good care of the baby."

"And his next question was if he and Rachel could make a baby, right?"

Heidi smiled. "Again the similar thoughts of father and son are evident. Yes, he did ask me, and I told him that his body wasn't ready yet. I didn't talk about hormones, erections, or periods—I didn't want to scare him. I told him that he wouldn't be old enough until after it was time to go to magic-school, and he accepted that. I'll discuss the finer points with him when he's nine or ten."

"So what did he tell Rachel?"

"I don't know, but I told him to tell her that marriage is a really big step, and that he'd need a long time to think about it."

"I think you handled it perfectly," Wolfe said, now in a louder voice.

He wandlessly summoned Heidi's sapphire silk charmeuse dressing gown. The fabric and colour suggested that it was meant to complement the nightdress that lay discarded over the back of a chair.

"We'd best get ready for the rest of the day. Have you got anything I can wear?"

Heidi threw on her dressing gown, wrapping it snugly around herself before tying the belt, and Wolfe idly watched her swaying bottom as she pranced over to the closet. After their activities during the night, and the wake-up session, he hadn't thought it possible to react once again—but he was.

Heidi slid open the closet door and shifted a few things around. Wolfe sensed her pondering about whether or not she ought to take out a particular piece of garment, on account of its painful ties to the past.

"That'll do fine, Heidi. We can't keep running from the past."

"Stop doing that—it's creepy," Heidi chided, as pulled out his old dressing gown, a pair of matching lounging trousers that had come with it, and some underwear he had left behind. The dressing gown was a handsome, reflective black silk jacquard one with several patterns woven into it in matte black along the sleeves and hem, and the image of a Chinese Fireball dragon on the back. His Uncle Long had given it to him as a wedding gift, six years ago. Heidi put the clothes on the foot of the bed, and headed to the door that connected the master bedroom with the bathroom. She unlocked it and pushed it open.

"So, err, who showers first?" Wolfe asked.

Heidi shrugged and leaned against the doorjamb. "Maybe I ought to go first and take a long shower that will use up all the hot water, since you seem to need a cold one." She smiled salaciously, looking at the spot where the sheet covered his midsection. "Or … we _could_ shower together and deal with anything that—comes up—in a different way." Then she turned and headed into the bathroom, and Wolfe heard the lock of the door connecting the bathroom to the hallway click shut. Moments later she reappeared in the bedroom and placed her hand on her hips, looking at him expectantly. "Well?"

Wolfe was baffled, and he briefly wondered whether there was some truth behind the preconceptions about redheaded women. "Damn woman, I just gave you sweet loving five minutes ago! Are you trying to kill me?"

"Just making up for lost time. Can you keep up, and keep _it_ up?" Heidi asked Wolfe, as her dressing gown formed a silken puddle around her feet.

The wicked witch knew how to push his buttons, for Wolfe never backed away from a challenge.

X

* * *

**Author's Note**: I'm going on holiday for three weeks, but I'll take a diskette with me so I can update this fic. However, I won't be writing during my vacation, and since I want to keep a buffer between the posted chapters and the finished chapters, I'll update on the 16th instead of the 12th. I won't be answering reviews in that post, but please don't let that stop you from **review**ing. 

X

X

**Lioness-07863**: You'll have your answers in the next chapter.

**Fragarach**: I'm glad you got a kick out of that. And you were right about the Star Wars reference and the cameo.

**Elric**** Magus**: You're right about that. ;-)

**Foxfur**: As you have seen, giving Wolfe a shot of Doxy anti-venom wasn't necessary.

**Obsessed-with-Snuffles**: You need not say it, but I like to hear it all the same.

**maaike-fluffy**: Je zult het helaas iets langer moeten stellen zonder een nieuw hoofdstuk. Ik ga bijbruinen op Curaçao. ;-)

Wat het personage betreft; voor het geval dat ik iets van haar moet beschrijven heb ik een aantal feiten nodig om haar aan _jouw_ visie te laten voldoen. Haarkleur, oogkleur, lengte, bouw (dun of iets voller, 'vierkant' of zandloperfiguur, etc. Atletisch zal ze in elk geval zijn, omdat ze in the Martial Division zit.) Heeft ze een opvallend kenmerk op haar gezicht? (moedervlek of zo) Nog een paar dingen die ik graag zou willen weten zijn karakter trekjes. Koppig of meegaand, introvert of extravert, ongeduldig of zo geduldig als een zen monnik … heeft ze misschien een zenuw tik? Er moet met veel dingen rekening gehouden worden tijdens character creation, he?

En hoe vond je de terugkeer van Wolfe trouwens?

**lluvatar**: Done! How did you like it?

**blah29**: Sorry to take the pace out of the fic again, but I promise you that chapter 7, 8 and 9 will have plenty of action.

**KEDme**: Hopefully this chapter provided some of the things you've missed in the previous one.

**Bluerain22**: I'm glad the summary mad things clear.

**Numba1**: Funny that you mentioned Harry's near-adoption by Master Lei. It will come up again later in the story.

**The Keymaker**: Hey, you're back! Thanks for the chapter-by-chapter reviewing.

**aznanarchy**: If Matt gets Excalibur? What do you think that sword in the rock in Chapter 23 of Mind War was? :-)

**battlefield-addict**: Thanks. It would be cool to know what's so good about it, though.

**Cosmos Rose**: Yep, Nicolai is a king, and Mary is a princess.

**Kari Lynn Cortez**: I do lots of research both for information and inspiration.


	7. Trepidation and Terror

Chapter 7

**Trepidation and Terror**

It was half past eight in the morning on Christmas Eve.

With Richie on one arm and Holly on the other, Ginny trudged across the snow-covered street. The previous day's snow hadn't melted, and a fresh layer had fallen overnight, raising the level of the snow to ten inches.

"Richie, ring the bell for Mummy please," Ginny said, knowing how eager her son was to press the little button. Richie happily obliged, merrily ringing the bell until the door swung open fifteen seconds later, revealing a beaming Heidi wearing a luxurious dressing gown. That was a bit odd, since Heidi was always already dressed at this hour.

"Good morning!" Heidi plucked Holly from Ginny's arm and planted lots of kisses on her cheek, causing the little girl to giggle uncontrollably. Heidi was in an awfully good mood, and Ginny felt bad about having to be the one to ruin it.

Heidi stepped aside, allowing Ginny to come in, and as she walked into the house Ginny noticed how dark it was. The curtains were still drawn, as if a vampire were living there. The only illumination came from candles and the crackling fireplace—behind the childproof grate—which also produced a toasty heat.

Ginny put Richie down and helped him out of his outer layer of clothing, while Heidi did the same for Holly. Then Ginny quickly threw off her own cloak and un-coiled her scarf from around her neck to avoid overheating. It had to be over twenty degrees Celsius in there!

"Breakfast?" Heidi asked.

"We've already eaten," Ginny said. "Thanks for dinner, by the way."

"You're welcome. Would you like a cup of tea then? I'm making cinnamon tea."

Ginny nodded. "I'd like a cuppa—but Heidi, there's something you ought to know about—"

"If this is about this afternoon's excursion to the Citadel, I've already been informed."

"Really?"

Heidi nodded and picked Holly up.

"Did Commander Faust tell you?" Ginny asked, as Heidi lead her to the kitchen.

"Max."

"He came by? What for?"

"He wanted to see the boys," Heidi said, though the blush creeping on her cheeks told Ginny that there was more to this story.

"Is _he_ the reason why you're in such a good mood this morning?"

Heidi's blush deepened.

Ginny frowned. "He is, isn't he? Did you straighten things out? Does he have regrets about leaving?"

"That's a yes, yes, and a yes," Wolfe raspy voice sounded from the kitchen.

"How can you assume that the first answer is a yes? You've sure got a swollen head this morning," Heidi called back.

"Believe me, Heidi, you brought down the swelling very skilfully."

"Max!"

"Really, Heidi, it wasn't as if Ginny hadn't already guessed."

Heidi's face now almost matched her hair, and Ginny knew everything she needed to know. In fact, Heidi's blush was infectious, for Ginny felt her own face warm up too.

They entered the cinnamon-scented kitchen moments later. The dim light shining though carefully angled blinds revealed the kitchen's occupants. Wolfe wore a handsome black dressing gown, and the boys were still in their pyjamas. Robert was silently shovelling scrambled eggs into him mouth, glaring at his father as he chewed. Henry, on the other hand, seemed thrilled to have his father back, and was sitting in his lap while he pointed out the details of a painting he'd made. Ginny saw a cinnamon stick soaking in boiling water in a pan on the stove.

"Richie!" Henry exclaimed delightedly slid off his father's lap and headed for his friend. Though Henry was a little over fourteen months older, he still got along well with Richie and the other younger kids. He didn't much care who he played with.

Heidi halted her adopted son. "Finish your breakfast first."

"Yes, Aunt Heidi," Henry said, and obediently clambered back onto his own chair.

Heidi nodded to a chair in a gesture for Ginny to sit down, while she placed Holly in a highchair.

"Is it okay for your children to drink some chocolate milk?"

"Yaaay, choc-lit milk!" Richie cheered, and Ginny rolled her eyes. He'd already had his dosage for the day at home, but denying him some here meant that they'd be separating on bad terms later. It would be best to yield a little in order to prevent a tantrum.

"Only half a cup, please."

Heidi must have understood Ginny's facial expression, and shot her an apologetic look as she poured some chocolate milk into a child-sized goblet. "Half a cup it is," she said. Then she put the bottle back in the Perfect Preservation Cupboard and hurried over to the boiling water.

She turned the fire off with a flick of the wand before she summoned the steaming and soggy cinnamon stick out of the water. Next she summoned a filter which she put on the teapot, before transferring the tea water from the pan to the teapot. Finally, she conjured a trio of mugs and poured Ginny some tea, before serving Wolfe and herself.

"Aunt Heidi," Henry asked suddenly. "Was the egg I'm eating a little baby chicken?"

"No, _liebschen_. Chickens don't lay eggs the same way that people have babies. People only have babies when a daddy's seeds meet a mummy's egg, but hens always lay eggs, even if a rooster's seed didn't meet the egg when it was still inside the chicken. There are only chicks in the eggs when a rooster's seed meets the egg before the hen lays it, and the farmers make sure that it doesn't happen."

Ginny grinned. Having grown up with livestock, she knew that it didn't work that way when there were roosters around to fertilise the free roaming chicken, which was mostly the case on the poultry farms in Concordia. Of course, if the eggs were immediately removed from the nests and kept cool, it would be okay. She guessed that Heidi knew that too, but that she didn't want to upset Henry by telling him that they were eating potential chicks. For some reason, children tended to get upset when confronted with the fact that they were eating baby animals, but weren't bothered by the meat that came from fully-grown animals. Ginny guessed that the point of conflict lay in the fact that the animals never got a chance to grow up.

The four-and-a-half year-old was quiet for a moment, and Ginny could envision the cogs turning in his little head as he chewed on his eggs, before he continued. "Aunt Heidi?"

"Yes, Henry?"

"Robert said that people can have babies if they're not mummies or daddies. Is that true?"

"Your daddy and your mummy didn't have any children before Robert, but they had him anyway, didn't they? And look at Mary. She's not a mummy yet, but she has a baby growing in her belly."

"And grownups don't have to be married to have babies?"

"No, _liebschen_. They often get married before they make babies, but they don't _have to_. Some people never get married, but have children anyway. People can love each other like grownups without getting married."

Henry frowned. "I don't understand."

"Well, it's like putting on your pyjamas. You almost always put them on. But on the warm days in summer, you slept in your briefs, remember? But some people always sleep in their underwear."

Henry's face lit up, as he grasped the concept. "Oh!"

"Do you understand it a little better?"

The boy nodded eagerly. "Yes, Aunt Heidi. But isn't winter too cold to sleep in your underwear?"

"Some people don't think so."

Another brief silence followed, but it didn't take long before Henry had thought of another question.

"Aunt Heidi?"

Heidi shot Ginny an exhasperated look before kindly replying. "Yes, Henry?"

"Rachel said that Uncle Matt and Aunt Gudrun close the door when they want to love each other like grownups."

"That's because people like to be alone when they're loving each other that way."

"But your door was closed today. Does that mean that you and daddy loved each other like grownups?"

Heidi had been sipping her tea when Henry drew the parallel, and she choked on the fluid. Glancing at Wolfe, Ginny saw that he was shaking in silent laughter, and she realised that he'd probably been monitoring his son's train of thought, explaining why the question hadn't caught him by surprise.

After she'd coughed the tea out of her windpipe, Heidi scowled at Wolfe. "You knew he was going to ask that, didn't you?"

Wolfe chuckled heartily, nodding in affirmation.

"Aunt Heidi, did I say something bad?" Henry asked, his big blue eyes wide with concern.

"No, you didn't," Wolfe assured his son, and reached over to ruffle his light-blond hair. Then he looked at Heidi. "He drew the right conclusion, so I guess the best thing to do is to confirm it."

Heidi nodded and turned to Henry. "Yes, your daddy and I loved each other like grownups."

"And did you make a baby together?"

"Ah … we don't know yet," Heidi said earnestly. "We may have."

Ginny shook her head. A month or so before her and Harry's wedding, a dark wizard with a lucky aim had landed a curse that struck Wolfe in the inner thigh, and Hermione had conducted thorough tests to see whether there was any damage in the immediate vicinity. The results had shown that Wolfe's fertility was even greater than Ron's—likely a lingering incubus trait, according to Hermione. Ginny also happened to know that her and Heidi's menstrual cycles were in sync, meaning that Heidi too had been at her most fertile the past evening. Therefore, the assumption that Heidi was almost certainly pregnant was a reasonable one.

"Heidi, do you remember the day my wings came out, and the vision I had?"

Heidi smirked, casting a furtive glance in Robert's direction. "Of course. I was right next to you. You saw certain people getting together in the future."

"Aside from the people we already know, I also saw a son of mine and Harry's with a pregnant young woman who looked like you and me. They way they behaved tells me that they weren't—won't be—brother and sister, so I deduced that she had to be _your _daughter. I know that the son I saw wasn't _him_—" Ginny nodded towards Richie, "—because his face and build are Weasley. The young man in my vision had hazel eyes, but aside from that he was Harry's spitting image. I know this may sound ridiculous, but I think you've conceived the redheaded girl last night, and I the son I saw in my vision. I think we'll even give birth on the same day."

Heidi's mouth had fallen open when Ginny told her about the vision. "Did you see that in your vision too, that we'd give birth on the same day?"

Ginny shook her head. "No. It's just a feeling."

Heidi swallowed. "I _did_ see it—us giving birth together. I dreamt that I was lying in a maternity ward, and you were in a bed right next to me, ready to give birth yourself."

"Heidi, do you have Seer blood?"

"Yes, I do. One of my great-great-great grandmothers on my mother's side was a Diamond Seer—she trained the current Oracle of Ogygia. Grand Aunt Elizabeth is an Emerald Seer, and many of my second cousins have had minor visions and premonitions at some point in their lives. Some brief visions and dreams, but no voiced prophecy."

Ginny grabbed Heidi's hand. "Do you know what this means? Their births are written in the stars with capital letters. That baby I saw your daughter pregnant with will be a special one, its grandfathers being the most powerful wizards of the age and all."

Wolfe cleared his throat. "The baby's grandmothers aren't slouches either … but don't you two think you're getting ahead of yourselves with these predictions?"

Beaming with delight, Ginny turned to answer him, but her reply died on her lips as she saw how upset he looked. The mere fact that his mood was so easy to read came as quite a shock to Ginny. He used to have the perfect game face. "Wolfe? What's wrong?"

"I won't be there, will I?" he said gloomily. "Neither of you saw me in your visions."

"That doesn't mean that you won't be there," Ginny said.

"Did you see Ron in your vision?"

Ginny shifted her feet in discomfort. "Yes, but—"

"And Harry too?"

"I didn't see Heidi either!" Ginny said crossly. "You're being an idiot."

"Visions are brief glimpses of _possible_ futures," Heidi said quickly, letting go of Ginny's hand and walking over to Wolfe. She placed her hands on his cheeks. "They're not like voiced prophecies. They're mutable! And the fact that you're not in them doesn't mean that something bad will happen to you. Ginny didn't see me in her vision either. Maybe you just won't be around at the exact point in time the visions reveal."

"Maybe," Wolfe said, though he didn't sound convinced.

X

* * *

X

The gears in Wolfe's mind were turning. If Heidi had indeed conceived the previous night, she'd be giving birth in about nine months. But he hadn't been in her vision, which was unsettling. Also, in her vision, Heidi had been sharing a maternity ward with Ginny, which meant that in nine months time, Heidi would still be in Concordia.

That meant that Heidi wouldn't leave Concordia with him to start a new life. That meant that, somehow, Yamato was going to slip through his fingers today. But unlike prophecies, visions were flashes of possible futures. He could still alter the future, if only he could work out how Yamato was planning to elude him.

Wolfe had taken great pains to anticipate Yamato's moves through two hypotheses. The first one he had called the 'Hierarchy of Hatred'. The hierarchy involved determining the criteria around which Yamato would decide which actions he wanted to retaliate for, and in what order. He'd based it on all the documented data concerning Yamato that he'd taken out of the Order's database, and it had enabled him to anticipate Yamato's responses to certain situations. The other one had been the 'Dream Ladder'. In order to create it, Wolfe had had to envision Yamato's ultimate goal, and work his way down from there, level by level, until he'd arrived at the next step Yamato was going to take.

It had worked brilliantly most of the time, allowing him to find most of Yamato's hideouts and drive the Dark wizard from lair to lair. But if he wasn't going to catch Yamato today, he must have overlooked something. But what?

"Harry and Ginny arrived at The Burrow half an hour ago, and they're taking the Floo connection to The Warren," Faust spoke behind him. The commander would personally lead the defense of the Umbral Gate, and the evacuation of all the dignitaries. "I've also told Nicolai about it. He and I travelled through the gate yesterday, to warn the Shamballah authorities. If Yamato does manage to slip through the gate somehow, they'll be waiting for him."

Wolfe nodded silently, not taking his eyes off the mirror screen that showed the inside of the enormous complex that housed the Umbral Gate. The image was provided by detectors on board the Cruiser, which was invisibly hovering near the building. The gate was a semicircle with a hundred-and-fifty foot radius, and even a Cruiser could squeeze through it. The first few dignitaries and media representatives were slowly filtering into the hall after having passed several security checkpoints. Unbeknownst to them, the Rangers were also scanning them thoroughly.

"Heidi and Jasmine are escorting the kids to the Portal that will take them to the Citadel."

"Time?" Wolfe asked.

"One minute past three."

The trouble would be starting soon. "Has everyone in Diagon Alley checked in with Command and Control?"

"Yes. Our people as well as the selected Aurors from the Ministry are in position."

"Is Doc among those on the ground?" Wolfe asked, as a terrible thought suddenly surfaced in his mind. He berated himself for not having thought of this sooner. In the past, Yamato had started several operations by detonating a combination of magical explosives and simple gunpowder.

"No. We're keeping him in reserve, since he is rather distinctive looking," Faust said. "But Wilson is there."

"I think you ought to deploy Doc too. Issue orders to seek out booby traps and explosive devices. Remember the attack he orchestrated in China in the seventies? We're all expecting a conventional attack by an outside force, but some dangerous items may already have been planted."

Faust's eyes widened with concern, and Wolfe sensed the Commander's disappointment with himself for failing to anticipate it. "Rachel, link me up with the Cruiser's broadcaster."

"Done," Rachel said after half a second

Faust then activated his communicator and began to issue instructions. "_Eurus, _Faust here!"

"Go ahead, Commander," Tarana Oliseh's nasal voice replied.

"Patch me through to every Ranger communicator in Diagon Alley, and the ones on the Cruisers."

"The channels are open, sir," Oliseh said after a moment.

"Attention, Rangers. We strongly suspect that the enemy might have had some explosive booby traps planted in Diagon Alley. Everyone save the Healers is hereby ordered to go to Diagon Alley immediately to search for such devices. Docmor and Wilson will lead the search."

"Should we ask the Aurors to call for an evacuation?" Aceng Riyadi's voice asked.

Wolfe shook his head in frustration. He knew that many wizards were so out of touch with the Muggle world that they'd fail to recognise the danger, and wizards in general were remarkably reluctant to believe that anything was wrong. The shopkeepers would probably put up a fight and refuse to leave their shops.

"Negative, it would be a waste of time," Faust replied. He had reached the same conclusion as Wolfe. "Nothing short of announcing Voldemort's return would persuade the wizards to leave their shops on one of the busiest days of the year. Unfortunately, everybody knows that Harry made sure that he'd never come back, so that won't work. Just search the shops as inconspicuously as possible. Prioritise according to estimates of the number of customers within the shops. Doc, Wilson, deal with the devices the way you think is best. No one else is as skilled as you two, so don't waste time asking for my opinion."

"Can't you use the magic sensors on the Cruisers to detect these things?" An unfamiliar voice asked. It was probably one of the younger Rangers.

"Not with all the magic in the air," Rachel muttered.

"That's a negative," Faust reported.

"Understood," several jumbled voices replied in unison.

"Good luck. _Typhoon_ out!" Faust said.

Wolfe sighed. With nearly everyone on the ground in Diagon Alley, searching for booby traps, Harry would be on his own at The Warren. He decided against mentioning it to Faust, because there was little the Commander could do about it.

"Sir, I recommend that we'd best position ourselves over the southern exit," Clara da Silva said.

"Why?" Faust asked.

"The southern access can channel the largest amount of people. If the enemy intends to kill as many people as possible, he'll cut off that exit to turn it into a killing ground."

Wolfe shook his head. "His objective is escape, not slaughter. He needs to clear the building as quickly as possible to get through the gate. If he commits too few resources to the task of carving a path through security, he won't even get in the building. Anyway, this is Yamato we're talking about. He'll go for body count in the city, where security is light. That'll draw away security from the Umbral Gate."

Clara frowned. "Isn't that too obvious a diversionary tactic?"

"Yamato knows that Sinclair will be crucified in the next re-election if he orders the City Watch to protect the relatively few dignitaries instead of the masses in the city."

"You think so?" Faust asked.

Wolfe shrugged. "Personally, I do. But if you want to be completely sure, you'd have to ask the politicians in the Diplomatic Division if the intangible variable of politcal favours by the dignitaries will outweigh his immediate dismissal for failing to protect the people who've elected him. Honestly, Commander, do you actually think the politicians among the dignitaries will be openly grateful to a man who allowed his own constituents to get slaughtered, just to protect a handful of social elites?" he continued sarcastically. "They'd side with public opinion and proclaim that they _would_ have sacrificed their personal safety to protect the people."

"Point taken."

"But if Yamato commits most of his forces to killing people in the City, how will he get near the Umbral Gate?" Rachel Esklove asked from the pilot's seat.

"Stealth. How else?" Clara replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world

"Hey, no need to use that tone with me," Rachel replied wryly. "_I_ wasn't trained in tactics and strategy, like you."

"This was really obvious, Rachel." Clara grinned. "Maybe your Dark wizard boyfriend has a hand in slowing your wits."

"He is _not_ a Dark wizard. I'm sick and tired of all those 'your boyfriend is a Dark wizard' jibes," Rachel erupted. "So his name happens to be Tom Riddle. It's a coincedence, for crying out loud. He's not related to Voldemort!"

"Relax, Rachel. I was just baiting you!"

"You're boyfriend's name is Tom Riddle?" Rolf Larsson asked, giving Rachel a curious glance from the weapon's console.

"Mind your own business, Rolf!" Rachel snapped.

"Is he Jewish?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"He's not," Clara said, disguising the words in a cough.

"That's not fair!" Larsson gave Rachel a crestfallen look. "You've been rejecting me because I'm a gentile, and now you've got a gentile boyfriend."

"I never told you I didn't want to date you because you're a gentile. You just assumed."

"Then why?"

"Because I don't want a boyfriend who runs back to his part-Veela ex-girlfriend every time she snaps her fingers," Rachel replied coolly.

"I don't do that!" Larsson exclaimed in a huff.

Clara coughed again, this time covering a word that sounded like 'whipped'.

"Stop your bickering and focus on the task at hand, children," Faust admonished. "And, Mr Larsson, you _do_ run back to your ex-girlfriend every time she snaps her fingers."

Wolfe tuned out Larsson's indignant reply in order to immerse himself in his own thoughts again, trying to place himself in Yamato's shoes and come up with a theory that would explain Yamato's possible escape.

Doc's anxious voice interrupted his thoughts about ten minutes later. "We found a bomb in Gambol and Japes. Volatile potions mixed with gunpowder, rigged to an old-fashioned Muggle alarm clock."

Wolfe grimaced. Yamato had taken a good many leaves out of Muggle books. The potion and gunpowder mix would spread like napalm.

"By the hells of poverty—there are only fifty seconds to go!"

"Aceng, tell the Aurors to call for an evacuation—we have tangible evidence. Doc, can you disarm it?" Faust asked.

"I can't see any way to deactivate it."

"Stop the clock," Wolfe said.

"What? Who said that?" Doc sounded incredulous.

"I know it sounds too easy but I deem it unlikely that Yamato made these himself," Wolfe replied, this time standing close to Faust and speaking into his broadcaster. "I can't explain the reasoning behind my assumption right now. Either you stop the clock, or you Apparate to a safe place to let the bomb explode, or … Apparate away and _then _try to disarm it. But act _now_!"

"Doc's Apparated to and empty field outside the city," Tarana Oliseh reported. A few seconds later, her voice returned on the speakers, this time sounded relieved. "Doc said that stopping the clock worked."

Wolfe couldn't allow himself to relax just yet. "Are the people getting out of the shops yet?"

"The Aurors are having trouble convincing the shopkeepers."

"Wilson here. I found and deactivated a bomb in Quality Quidditch Supplies. The time was down to the final fifteen seconds, Commander." The panic in Wilson's voice was evident. "If all the bombs were set to go off simultaneously, we're out—"

The thunder of several explosions drowned out the rest of Wilson's words.

X

* * *

X

The wards' alarm briefly blared, but went silent much too soon. The greenish tint of flames in the fireplace—caused by Lee Jordan's Floo powder call that had ended only heartbeats ago—faded to the normal orange colour immediately instead of gradually, confirming what Harry had already suspected.

"Anti-magic field," Ginny said, telling Harry that she had reached the same conclusion. "Evacuation!"

As expected, uttering the Portkeys' trigger word didn't yield any results.

"Keep trying. I'll deal with the intruders," Harry said, before rendering himself intangible and flying straight upwards.

Seconds later he was hovering over The Warren. He spotted the intruders, nearly two dozen of them, moments before they saw him. Seven were wizards, but the rest were zombies which had probably been raided from local graveyards quite recently.

A quick scan of the wizards' thought patterns told him that they weren't acting under their own volition, which meant that he'd have to be gentle with them. Unfortunately, his unwilling adversaries had no such limitations. Controlled experiments with his intangibility had taught him that the magical energy of many spells affected him normally if they hit him, and as he dodged the green flashes of the _Avada Kedavra_, Harry found himself wishing that he'd tried harder in developing the powers given to him by Novoridu's Talismans. The anti-magic field generator couldn't stop his wand-less magic, and invisibility would have given him a huge tactical advantage. In the periphery of his mind, he also wondered how it was possible that his assailants' wands were still working, but his current situation prevented him from devoting too much thought to it.

The anti-magic field generator was in plain sight, carried by two of the zombies. Harry narrowed his eyes, shooting twin Reductor curses out of them and turning the generator to dust. The wards' alarm surging back to life told him that he'd been successful. Now the Weasleys could get out.

Harry decided to try out a more unorthodox strategy next. He dove to the ground below and levelled off when he was about six feet underground. Then he surged through the soil for about five seconds, before resurfacing well behind his assailants. Six of the wizards had no idea where Harry had gone, but one of them suspected that he might turn up at their flank or rear. Fortunately he was standing behind the others, and they didn't notice him being struck by double stunners. The wizards went down in quick succession, and only the last one standing had noticed that something was amiss, before being nailed by Harry's stunning gaze.

This only left the zombies, which were almost harmless. They were unarmed, and Harry knew that they would have posed little threat to the Weasleys if it hadn't been for the anti-magic field generator. But he doubted that the Weasleys could have fought off their attackers had they been caught unawares, and with their wands useless. Even Ron and Hermione would have been able to do very little.

His train of thought was altered by the realisation that the zombies should have collapsed in the absence of an intelligent being that controlled them. Zombies _could_ be controlled by long-range spells, but only if there were no wards to stop them. After a moment of concentration, Harry had activated the magical nature of his enhanced eyesight. He didn't have to scan the grounds around the manor very long before finding a figure sneaking away under an invisibility cloak, careful not to shift the material and expose herself as she attempted to flee beyond the borders of the wards in order to Apparate.

Harry flew after her, snatching the invisibility cloak away as he overtook her. He stopped a few feet in front of her, hovering upside down like Peeves used to do at Hogwarts. "Boo!"

Pansy Parkinson emitted a horrified shriek. Her hand shot into one of the pockets of her robes, reaching for her wand.

Harry gave her a warning glare. "You saw me shoot curses out of my eyes. Do you think you'll be able to draw your wand and get off a hex before I stun you? I can see your hand around your wand the same way I saw through your invisibility cloak. Let it go and take your hand out of your pocket."

Pansy complied, withdrawing a trembling hand.

"Good." Harry nodded grimly, turning upright in the air. "Now tell me, why you were leading an attack on The Warren. I can read your mind, so don't bother lying to me. And you'd better co-operate, because part of me just wants to kill you where you stand."

"You wouldn't!"

"You came here with the intention to kill my family. _So. Why. Wouldn't. I?_" Harry said, stressing every word separately.

"But I didn't know anyone was supposed to die. I was just paid to hold the talisman that controls the zombies," Pansy said irritably, and held out the triangular talisman that hung around her neck.

Harry destroyed it with a crushing gesture of his hand, and he promptly heard the thuds of the corpses hitting the ground. In Pansy's mind, he found no evidence of deceit, which annoyed Harry even more. How could anyone be that thick?

"Zombies are never used for peaceful ends, you stupid cow!"

"B-But half of those wizards work at the Ministry. And with that pyramid-shaped thing—I thought it might have be some sort of demonstration."

"Then why would you have to hide under an invisibility cloak?" Harry shook his head.

"The man who paid me gave it to me and said that it was imperative that I'd stay out of sight."

Harry snorted derisively. "And didn't that set off any alarm bells in your empty skull?"

Her mind immediately answered that she wasn't _that_ dumb, but that the payment of five thousand galleons had simply been too good to let those alarm bells bother her. The only thing that Pansy was guilty of was choosing greed over common sense, and being very easy to manipulate. Still, she had to pay for her indifference. "I was paid not to ask any questions."

Harry shook his head. "I doubt that you'd have lived long enough to enjoy your gold. The man you ran this errand for would probably have had you killed afterwards."

"What? Why?"

"To keep me and my colleagues busy while he made his escape. I'm letting you go for now, but if you want to stay alive, I'd strongly recommend that you don't go home. Go to Hogsmeade instead and rent a room at The Three Broomsticks. _Don't try to run_, because we'll find you!" he warned, as he sensed her contemplating escape. "Stay in your room, and one of my colleagues will be over to talk to you in a few hours. The only way you're getting out of this alive is through a lifetime of servitude to the Order of Illumination."

"And if I refuse?" Pansy challenged.

"Have you heard of Medea Aconit, and what happened to her? If not, let me enlighten you." Harry's face settled into a malevolent grin. "She was tortured with a new curse that makes the _Cruciatus_ feel like a tickling charm, because she'd worked for Tetsuo Yamato. And by participating in this little raid, _you_ have worked for him too. If you refuse, I'll give you to the wizard who killed Aconit—yes, Max Wolfe," he added, confirming her thoughts.

He could feel Pansy's fear as clearly as he could see her face pale. It gave him a sense of grim satisfaction.

"Harry!" Ron's voice called out from behind him. "Bloody hell…" His sentence trailed off as he came close enough to recognise Pansy. Harry felt his friend's outrage build.

"We _could_ send her to Azkaban, but I thought it would be better to use her as a tunnel rat, like Wormtail," Harry said, hoping to defuse Ron's temper. But he had no such luck, and Ron drew his wand.

"You'll pay for this!"

"Of course she will, but don't you agree that a carefully chosen punishment will leave much more of an impression than anything you could dish out in a spur of the moment?" Harry said, trying a different method to stay Ron's hand.

"Yeah…" Ron replied after a few tense seconds. He lowered his wand.

"Is the family okay?"

"They Portkeyed away the moment the anti-magic field disappeared and the alarms kicked in again. Hermione and Ginny went with them, but they'll probably be called to Diagon Alley."

"What happened in Diagon Alley?"

"I got a transmission from the _Eurus _right after the family left. It seems Yamato's used a different tactic in Diagon Alley than he used here. He had some bombs hidden away in several shops. There were explosions in Magical Menagerie, Flourish and Blotts, and Florean Fortescue's." Ron's voice grew rough with emotion, and he was forced to swallow. "There are three confirmed fatalities, so far, and many others are in bad shape. The bastard specifically targeted shops where children were likely to be. It would've been much worse if Doc and Wilson hadn't found the explosives in Quality Quidditch Supplies and Gambol and Japes."

"Were any Rangers hurt?"

"Yeah, but they didn't tell me how badly."

Harry glanced at the stunned wizards and the inert zombies. "I've got to help in London, Ron. Can you guard the wizards for the time being? They won't be waking up anytime soon, and I'm sure that the bad guys won't come looking for them, since they're under some kind of spell."

"Probably the magical maggots Yamato bred. I checked some of them before joining you—they've got the telltale lesions on the back of their necks. I'd call for the Cruiser so we could have a Healer remove the maggots, but I reckon their priorities are elsewhere right now."

Harry kicked a small stone to vent his frustration. Reinforcements from Concordia were not an option, since drawing the Rangers away from there would be exactly what Yamato was hoping for.

Ron glared at Pansy. "What about _her_?"

"We'll let her go, for now. I've already warned her what'll happen if she tries to run," Harry said. Then he turned to Pansy. "One of my colleagues will look you up at The Three Broomsticks. Make sure you're there, because if you're not, we'll let Maximilian Wolfe have his way with you!"

Harry tossed the invisibility cloak to Ron, before Disapparating.

* * *

**Please R&R and make my holiday.**


	8. A Matter of Perspective

Chapter 8

**A Matter of Perspective**

****

Diagon Alley was rife with noxious smoke that forced its way unbidden up his nostrils, carrying with it the scent of burnt flesh. Owing to his magically enhanced eyesight, which allowed him to see through solid objects, the smoke posed no problems to Harry's vision. He almost wished that he hadn't had the ability when he saw the horrible devastation.

The narrow street was packed with Healers and Ministry personnel who were doing their best to help injured and distraught witches and wizards. Others were clearing away dangerous rubble that threatened to cause harm to those present.

"Mummy? Mummy, get up … Mummy, please get up… I said please, Mummy."

Harry turned to the source of the sound and saw a bloodstained child no older than four prodding his mother's belly with his tiny hands. The woman's head lolled to the side and Harry looked right into her flat, lifeless eyes. If she wasn't dead yet, the amount of blood seeping through her soaked robes and onto the pavement told him that it was inevitable at this point. He felt even worse when, with a start, he realised that he knew her… Lisa Turpin. She'd been in his year at Hogwarts, in Ravenclaw.

He walked over to her and knelt down beside her son. Reaching over to her face, he closed her eyes.

"Don't do that!" the boy said shrilly, pushing his hand away.

"I'm sorry."

Harry swallowed, wondering how one confronted such a young child with the grim reality of death. He found himself fervently wishing that Ginny were there with him. She was so good at finding words of comfort in the darkest of times. Maybe it would be best to stay clear of the topic for the time being.

"My name is Harry Potter," he began, hoping that name recognition would get the boy's attention. "What's your name?"

"You're Harry Potter?"

Harry swept aside the fringe of hair that covered his forehead to reveal his scar. "Yeah, I'm Harry Potter. And what's your name?"

"Graham ... Smith," the boy replied hesitantly.

Harry frowned. Smith was a very common surname, so it didn't tell Harry whether his father was wizard of Muggle.

"My mum's hurt. Can you help her?" Graham's big, gray eyes looked up at him hopefully.

Harry hated the fact that he was going to have to disappoint the boy. For all his power, he couldn't bring people back to life, and while he was frantically looking for words that would allow him to gently break the news to the boy, he suddenly felt a presence with a comforting aura behind him. Relief poured through him, and he rose to his feet and turned around. The glimmer in Ginny's eyes told Harry that the horrible scenery had shaken her too, though she was putting on a brave face. He desperately wanted to pull her into a hug and hold her close for the next couple of hours, but they didn't have that kind of luxury. People needed their help.

"I felt that you needed me," she said softly.

Harry gestured to the boy, who was still kneeling by his mother. "This is Graham Smith, and his mum. Will you see to it that they're taken care of?"

"I remember her. She was in your year, wasn't she?"

Feeling his throat constrict again, Harry simply nodded.

"Yamato _will_ pay for this," Ginny said with quiet confidence. "I know this is horrible, Harry, but you need to be strong for these people a little while longer. When this is over, we'll head home and go to pieces together, all right? Now go to Flourish and Blotts," she instructed. "There are some people buried beneath the rubble—they say it's too risky to simply start Vanishing the rubble starting at the top. I think your intangibility could be very useful in helping to get people out." She stood on the tips of her toes and gave him a quick kiss, before kneeling down next to Graham and putting her arms around him.

In order to save time, Harry took to the air and soared over the heads on the wizards crowding Diagon Alley, touching down next to Hermione and a young Seventh Class Swiss Ranger whose name continuously eluded Harry, even though she was frequently in Hermione's company. They were feverishly working on a wizard lying face down on a stretcher in front of them.

Hermione wore the medical variant of the Vision Enhancement Goggles, which allowed her to look inside a body, laying bare the anatomy and thus helping her to better visualise the effect she was trying to achieve with her healing spell. The injured wizard still needed a lot of work, though, because most of his back was covered in a large charred patch that was a third degree burn.

The crunching of glass under boots heralded someone's approach. A heartbeat later, Lembit Tael, an Estonian wizard from Intelligence Field Operations who had joined the Order two years after Ginny had, appeared next to him. Harry barely recognised him, since his arms and face were completely covered in an orange salve that served to heal burns. "Harry, good that you are here. The Cruiser's detectors show that there are seven people buried beneath the debris in Flourish and Blotts." He held out seven Galleon-sized Portkeys. "If you put these in your pockets they'll turn intangible when you do, yes?"

Harry nodded. Anything close enough to be covered by his aura would turn intangible with him.

"Good. You are to place the Portkeys on the victims. When they are in place, they will be remotely activated and the victims will be simultaneously extracted."

"What happened to you?" Harry asked while he pocketed the Portkeys.

"I was in Magical Menagerie, looking for the bomb when it exploded." He shook his head sadly. "All those poor animals."

"Were any other Rangers hurt by the explosions?"

Tael nodded gravely. "Ben-Hamoud lost his right eye, and his right arm at the elbow. Salas was burned much more badly than I. The heat damaged his lungs, and they are not sure if he will survive."

Marco Salas had joined the Order of Illumination shortly before Harry and Ginny got married, and Tariq ben-Hamoud a year after that. Harry had helped train both of them, and they'd frequently been assigned to the same two-week patrol missions. He muttered a few oaths under his breath, before turning himself intangible and floating into the ruin that used to be Flourish and Blotts.

X

* * *

X

Hermione knew that the life of her current patient was literally in her hands. She had to heal the puncture wounds made by the flying shrapnel as quickly as possible. It was field surgery at its crudest.

"That one is next," Hermione said, pointing to a wound near the spinal column, and Imelda Hauri immediately poured a purple Disinfectant Potion into the wound. If the metal shard shehad extracted from that spot earlier had impaled the wizard half an inch more to the left, his spine would have been shattered rather messily, and his survival would have been even more in doubt.

"Should I administer Re-hydration Potion now?"

"Yes, and follow up with the Blood-Replenishing Potion as soon as you're done with that," Hermione said, before Vanishing the remaining disinfectant in her patient's wound, which would have interfered with her healing charms. Then she quickly went to work, healing the damaged entrails first and moving outwards to the muscles in the back. It required tremendous amounts of concentration, but through her goggles she saw the damage slowly being repaired.

After having finished her one-year basic training five months ago, Imelda had been paired up with Hermione, whose job it was to be the Swiss witch's mentor until the next summer. Imelda seemed to have taken to Hermione's healing style quickly, because she'd anticipated what would have been Hermione's next instruction. Instead of waiting for Hermione to complete the tricky healing, she'd gone ahead with alternately dabbing the Disinfectant Potion over the blackened skin on the wizard's upper back, and applying the orange Dermal Regeneration Paste on the disinfected parts immediately afterwards.

After healing the patient's back to the best of their ability, they levitated him, then flipped him over to make a visual check of the front of his body. Fortunately, it had sustained significantly fewer injuries.

Hermione noticed that her patient was starting to regain consciousness. It was a good sign, because it meant that his body had noticed the repairs and the extra resources provided by the re-hydration and replenishment of lost blood. She was also thankful that the paste contained herbs that soothed much of the excruciating pain that such serious burns would normally inflict.

"Imelda, take care of his face. I'll finish up with the rest of his injuries." Hermione instructed. She continued to work as fast as she could, despite the knowledge that her patient was out of danger now, for there were still lots of injured people who still needed her help.

The wizard groaned just as Hermione finished healing a cut that would likely have become infected if it had remained untreated. She shot a quick glance at his face to check if he was waking up, nearly dropping her wand in shock as she recognised her patient. She had failed to do so before, because his face had been covered in a thick layer of soot and dust. But Imelda had washed it all away in order to treat the gash on his cheek. It was Oliver Wood, and he was indeed awake.

He uttered bits of a sentence. "Junior … my son … Flourish and Blotts."

Hermione looked at the smoking ruins that used to be the bookshop. The odds of anyone surviving under that rubble weren't very good. She turned back to Wood, just in time to gently but firmly push him back on the stretcher. "Don't move. You were hurt very badly. I've repaired the injuries, but the parts I've healed are still tender. You need to rest to recover completely."

"Hermione … Granger?"

Hermione pushed her goggles up to her forehead. "Good, you remember me. I think it's safe to say that you don't have a concussion," she said quickly, desperate to avoid the topic of his son. She simply didn't have the time to give him moral support. There were too many wounded to be treated.

As if he'd been summoned, Harry came floating out of the smoking ruins of Flourish and Blotts—a sight that never failed to give Hermione the chills. Nevertheless, she was very grateful for his appearance now. She'd overheard some of the instructions Harry had been given, so she quickly ran over to him to get some answers, nearly falling as she tripped over some debris.

"Harry, Wood just told me that his son was in Flourish and Blotts when the bomb exploded. Is he buried in there?"

"He might have been. I came across a boy of about seven. But everyone's been successfully transported out from under the rubble with the Portkeys."

"Was he alive?"

"Yeah. I saw his breath stir some dust. He was unconscious, though, and he's got a few fractures, but nothing critical. I saw it when I used my special vision. Aside from some surface gashes, he didn't have any wounds—he wasn't hurt by shrapnel."

"Was he bleeding internally?"

"I didn't see any leaks in the vascular plumbing, but I'm no expert."

"Potter!" Captain Riyadi's voice echoed over the cacophony of sounds that filled Diagon Alley, and moments later, the Captain's silhouette became visible through the smoke. A short figure was next to him.

"Yes?" Harry called back.

Riyadi and Doc carefully picked their way through the debris. Then, after coming close enough, Riyadi clapped Harry on the shoulder. "You did a great job rescuing those people trapped under the rubble. It was too late for three people, but your intervention saved the other four. We'd like a repeat performance in what is left of Magical Menagerie and the Florean Fortescue's. Then you'll need to sweep the remaining buildings for explosives."

Doc continued, "After everyone was cleared out of the buildings, the detectors on the Cruisers were able to sweep them for the explosives. None were found, but we'd like to be absolutely sure, since we've been warned that it is a common tactic to set bombs to detonate in waves. We'd like you to look because your ability to make yourself intangible makes you the only one who can search without being exposed to danger."

"Well, duty calls," Harry said grimly, and turned to Riyadi. "Where do I start?"

"You can start in any of the shops that haven't exploded. Oh, and since we've found bombs in the Quidditch shop and the joke shop before they exploded, we can assume that those are clear."

"Then I'll save those for last. Our enemy is devious enough to have several bombs planted in the shops," Harry replied, and Hermione agreed wholeheartedly.

Doc nodded. "We've considered that possibility, but in the end it was deemed unlikely. You have to think like a booby-trapper," the half-goblin explained. "What use would a bomb be if it's trapped beneath a layer of rubble thick enough to smother the explosion? And the trap-layer would know that everyone would have been evacuated to a safe distance by now, due to the first explosion. The same is true for all the other shops, which is why we doubt the presence of more traps. But being thorough can't hurt."

"I'm sorry that we're singling you out again," Riyadi said apologetically.

Harry sighed. "It's all right. I _would_ be in less danger than anyone else, so I'm the logical choice."

Hermione rolled her eyes, knowing that Harry would have volunteered even if it would have put him in danger. Harry caught her expression—and probably her thoughts—which brought a subdued smile to his face.

"I've got instructions for you, too," Riyadi said, as he turned to face Hermione. "We've made sure that Gringotts is safe, and we've set up an emergency hospital in the main hall, as a halfway point to St Mungo's. That's where all the injured have been brought if they're stable enough to be moved, and that's where their friends and family can find them."

"Didn't the goblins make a fuss?" Hermione asked, finding it hard to believe that the frigid goblins would care enough to do such a thing.

"I told them that I know Nicolai Savin personally, and that I could put in a good word on their behalf and recommend them as employers, if he were to decide to pursue a career in Curse Breaking," Doc said.

Hermione smiled. "I reckon that sort of incentive would sway any goblin."

"They would have been foolish not to consider the possible benefits."

"Well, we've wasted enough precious time with chatter. I've got people to heal," Hermione said. Then she turned on her heel and headed towards Gringotts at as brisk as pace as she dared.

X

* * *

X

So far, Ginny had managed to put on a brave face for the people around her, but the truth was that the death and destruction were wearing her down. It had been hard enough to tell Graham that his mother was dead, though she had—she hoped—fairly successfully managed to soften the blow with words of comfort. It would have been much more difficult if he'd been a sceptical teenager.

Mercifully, Eloise Longbottom, who stumbled upon Ginny and Graham, turned out to have been friends with Lisa. She had taken the boy into her care and told Ginny that she'd contact the Turpins. She would also make sure that Lisa's body would be taken care of in the proper manner, enabling Ginny to aid the Healers and Medi-wizards in patching up the survivors. Having heard that all the stable casualties would be transported to Gringotts, and not seeing any unattended injured people on the street anymore, Ginny decided that it was the place to be.

When she was a few dozen feet away from the entrance to Gringotts, she saw that there were lots of displeased-looking goblins huddled there, but they didn't prevent anyone from coming and going. However, several Rangers from the Martial Division were guarding the entrance, peering at anyone who tried to enter the building though their V.E.G. goggles, probably making sure that no-one would try to smuggle a bomb into the crowded bank.

"Ginny … Ginny Weasley!" a hysterical voice called.

Turning around, Ginny saw a frantic Parvati Wood, her face smudged with soot, striding towards her. A gaggle of young children were doing their best to keep up with her. As Parvati came closer, Ginny noticed clear streaks on Parvati's otherwise dirty cheeks. Ginny did a quick headcount of the children and noticed that there were only nine, whereas there were supposed to be ten.

"I've lost Oliver and Junior," Parvati said frantically. "Have you seen them? Do you know if they've been hurt?"

Ginny shook her head. "I haven't seen them, nor have I heard anything about them. If you didn't see them on your way here, odds are that they're in Gringotts."

By the time she'd finished her sentence, the children had crowded around her and their mother, and Ginny bent down and scooped two of Parvati's youngest children into her arms. The two identical girls, two-thirds of a set of triplets, weighed about thirty pounds each. They sat a bit stiffly in Ginny's arms at first, but when they turned to their mother and saw that she wasn't worried, they relaxed.

Parvati followed Ginny's lead and picked up the remaining triplet. She looked at Ginny in wonder, who realised that Parvati must have noticed how effortlessly she seemed to be lifting her children. "Aren't they heavy?"

"Being in shape could mean the difference between life and death on field missions, so the Order makes everyone put in a certain amount physical training every week."

"It doesn't really show."

Ginny smiled. The truth was that Holly's intervention had also left her stronger than was normal for a woman her size. Her strength wasn't of the superhuman kind, but it was enough to have enabled her to hold her own against Ron for three whole minutes in a friendly arm-wrestling match, much to his annoyance. "I focus on the sculpting of my muscles, instead of acquiring bulk. Anyway, there's nothing like a bit of exercise to burn away the weight you gain in pregnancy."

Parvati sighed and looked at her lower body wistfully. "If they didn't make you exercise, do you think you'd have had the discipline to do it by yourself?"

"Of course. The Rangers from the Martial Division work out quite often, and most of them are men. A lot of them also have bodies like male underwear models," Ginny added with a grin.

The Indian witch's eyes glittered. Ten years and ten children had changed her very little. The idea of being surrounded by muscular half-naked men still triggered her imagination the way it would have in her school days. "Saucy wench. Does Harry know your eyes are straying?"

"It's hard to hide anything from him. He's grown very perceptive since Hogwarts. But he also knows that I'll always be faithful to him, so he's not worried." Ginny nodded to Gringotts. "Shall we?"

Parvati's goofy grin dissipated as her momentarily forgotten anxiety returned. She began to walk towards Gringotts, and Ginny fell in stride next to her. They stopped at the entrance to allow the six remaining children to precede them into the building.

"You know, I've heard that twinning was partially a family trait, but I don't think that explanation covers _three_ groups of multiples. I don't mean to pry, but have you undergone some sort of fertility treatment?"

"Bart and Brandon—they're the first pair of twins—Oliver, and Aarti and Basanti were born without any outside intervention. But the second pair of twins and the triplets were the result of a gorgeous anklet I saw at a market in India and decided I just had to have. It turned out to be a very powerful fertility talisman. Oliver and I planned to stop at five children, so I went on Potion. They told us that the odds of getting pregnant while on Potion are roughly the same as being struck by lightning in a lifetime." Parvati smiled sheepishly. "Lightning struck twice before we worked out that the anklet was a fertility talisman."

"Out of the way, injured wizard coming through!" Hermione's unmistakable bossy voice rang behind them.

Ginny stepped aside and glanced at the new arrivals, with Hermione striding up front and Imelda Hauri levitating a stretcher bearing none other than Oliver Wood. He looked a bit groggy, but he was very much alive.

Sobbing with relief, Parvati put her daughter down before leaping on top of her husband's prone body, causing the floating stretcher to wobble dangerously and cease its forward motion. "Oh Oliver, I didn't mean what I said this morning," she said, and started to shower his face in kisses. Wood tried to mumble out a reply, but since Parvati's lips were in the way, he just settled for kissing her back.

Ginny shared much of Parvati's relief. To her, seeing friends lose their loved ones hurt almost as much as losing people yourself. She set down the two toddlers she'd been carrying and patted them on the head. Then she turned to follow Hermione, who had continued on her way, briefly smiling at Wood's warm reception, but otherwise clearly occupied by more pressing matters.

Catching up to Hermione proved to be very tricky in the hustle and bustle of the overcrowded hall. But Ginny finally managed to do so, and grabbed Hermione by the elbow to slow her down. "Honestly, Hermione, if you don't slow down, you'll trip on one of the wounded."

Hermione slowed down, but only marginally. "I'm in a hurry, so if you want to talk, you'd best walk with me. Actually, your help would be more then welcome where I'm headed."

"And where is that?"

Hermione pointed to a far corner of the hall that was obscured by curtains. "Harry's been using his ghost trick to plant Portkeys on people buried beneath the rubble of ruined buildings."

"I know—it was my idea, and I'll gladly help. On another note, Parvati's one child short, and I was wondering—"

"Oliver Junior—he'll be where we're going," Hermione cut Ginny off. "Wood told me about his son being in Flourish and Blotts at the time of the explosion. Harry mentioned rescuing a boy that was the right age. He was injured, but according to Harry, it didn't seem life-threatening."

"He's hardly an expert."

Hermione smiled. "Sounds like you and your husband share a brain, because he said the exact same thing."

"What can I say?" Ginny said airily. "Great minds think alike."

"From insults to praises in under five seconds. I'm impressed."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "I didn't insult him. I was just stating a fact. He doesn't know much beyond elementary healing techniques."

"No, but his powers allow him a Medical Vision Enhancement Goggles' view of a person's anatomy. That's how _he_ knew you were pregnant with Holly before _you_ knew you were pregnant, remember? And regarding Oliver Junior, Harry didn't see any haemorrhaging, and that's easy to spot even without formal training. He did see some fractures, but nothing critical. Hopefully we'll get confirmation of his assessment."

Someone slipped in between them and threw arms around their shoulders, pulling them closer together. It was Danielle Esklove, and she spoke in hushed tones, "I just thought you'd like to know—the attack in Concordia has started."

Ginny's heart skipped a few beats. She knew that her children were in the safest possible place on Nomad Island, but she still felt a mother's anxiety.

X

* * *

X

Ron re-checked the bindings on the captured wizards again, since tests on the sample parasite maggots captured in Brazil had shown that they were capable of reviving wizards in a fraction of the time it normally took to recover without the counter curse. He'd already checked their vital signs to make sure that Harry's stunners hadn't caused excessive damage, and he'd also levitated the captives to The Warren's relatively sheltered back porch so he didn't have to guard them while standing in the cold and suffering the zombies' stench. Additionally, for his own and the captives' added comfort, he'd brought out a heater, around which he had arrayed the captives.

He returned to his seat close to the heater and picked up one of the wands the wizards had used. It looked completely normal, save for a narrow band that was clamped around it, near the tip. All the captured wands had these rings around them, and though Ron could only speculate about their function, he was willing to bet that his educated guess was accurate. He'd seen a large pile of ashes while he'd been collecting the wands, and had deduced it to be the remains of the source of the anti-magic field Ginny had mentioned, after the Portkeys failed to activate. These rings probably enabled the wands to overcome the anti-magic field.

Holding the wand up to eye-level, Ron contemplated attempting to remove the ring, but he quickly decided that it would be better to let the Artificers have a look at it, lest it be difficult or dangerous to remove. He put the wand next to the others and prepared for a long wait. With half the Rangers caught up in London, and the other half waiting for Yamato in Concordia, it would be a while before any of his colleagues from the Medical Division would be available to remove the maggots from the captives, which had to happen before they could be properly debriefed. Of course, if Yamato was captured, getting the information quickly wouldn't matter anymore.

After some time had passed, he scooted a bit closer to the heater and threw more firewood into its furnace. The sky was clear and the sun shone brightly, but he didn't benefit from the sun's rays whilst under the roof. Glancing at the captives, he also wondered whether they were warm enough. Some were showing signs of being affected by the cold temperature—hardly surprising, since they'd been sent out here wearing only robes—and Ron knew that he ought to do something about it. He thought about getting blankets, but immediately rejected the idea, since he knew it would make it more difficult for him to spot them trying to free themselves, if they recovered from the stunners. The recuperative properties of Warming Charms meant that it could aid the captives in recovering from the stunners at an inconvenient time—which was why Ron hadn't used them in the first place—but he didn't have much of a choice now, so he cast the charms on them, knowing that he could always stun them again if it looked like they were coming 'round.

"It's a sound plan, but one based on incomplete information." Said a voice somewhere behind him.

Ron did what he'd been trained to do in such a situation, and tried to Apparate into the house, hoping place himself on equal footing with the new arrival—or multiple arrivals—since neither party would know where the other was. However, there were anti-Apparition wards over house itself as well as the grounds over an area of up to eighty yards around in diameter. With minimal hesitation, he went down on one knee to limit his profile. Knowing that properly orienting himself would take too much time, Ron pointed his wand over his shoulder and shot an unvoiced stunner at the intruder. He winced as he heard it strike the wall. It meant that he'd missed.

"Had I meant you harm, I wouldn't have announced my presence by talking to you."

Recognition dawned in Ron's mind. "Wolfe?"

"Not the original one, but yes. Shouldn't the wards around this place have warned you about an approaching Animagus?"

Ron turned around and came face to face with Wolfe. "It _should_ have. Good of you to point it out."

"Maybe it's because I'm a duplicate," Wolfe mused. "Perhaps it would have detected me if it had been attuned to Poltergeists. That's the magical entity the duplicate forms most closely resemble."

"Now that you mention it, I seem to remember Bill telling me that they omitted Poltergeist wards in favour of anti-Apparition." It was common knowledge that the two didn't go well together, which was part of the reason that Peeves continued to reside at Hogwarts. "Why are you here?"

"I've been keeping an eye on things since noon. I would have helped Harry in case he'd needed it, but the assault force wasn't even a challenge for him." Wolfe pointed at the unconscious captives. "About the flaw in your plan, those worms can link their hosts telepathically, provided that they're within roughly three-hundred feet on each other. If one had woken up, they would have played stunned until they were able to do a co-ordinated attack against you. It's very limited, though. It can't be used in the heat of battle, but information can be exchanged when their hosts are inactive, or engaged in very simple activities, like walking."

"The ones we captured in Rio have been analysed, but nothing about them suggested that they were capable of telepathic communication."

"That's because that particular trait only becomes evident when they've taken a host. There's no reason for them to do it when it isn't required. I imagine the people from the Medical Division haven't asked for volunteer hosts to observe the maggots' capabilities."

"Of course not!" Ron exclaimed indignantly.

Wolfe smirked. "You say that as if you're completely convinced that it was the right thing."

"It was!"

"Then maybe you ought to consider the possibility that if they _had_ done it, you wouldn't have taken your guard duty so lightly." Wolfe pointed to the largest stunned wizard. "If you do nothing, he'll awaken in half an hour."

Ron winced. Wolfe had scored a point. "How do you know all this?"

"A few weeks ago, I got a chance to observe some Muggles in China who've been infected by these maggots. Analysing them and running tests will tell you some things, but not everything. I'm sorry to see that the Order still is too squeamish to do certain things, even if they're necessary."

"If we use the methods of the enemy—"

"Had Master Lei been allowed to do so, years ago, your family wouldn't have been attacked today, and nobody would have died in Diagon Alley," Wolfe said sharply. "It's easy to be philosophical about these things if you're not up to your neck in it. But for those of us who _are_, the words 'never again' have special meaning. Come on, Ron. Get off your high horse and imagine what would have happened to you and your family if you'd received no warning. The Weasley family would have been halved! Or worse!"

"I _have_ considered all that, and I _know_ how you feel. I felt like killing Pansy Parkinson after Harry caught her. Fortunately Harry stopped me, or I might actually have done it." Ron shuddered at the memory of how close he came. "Taking lives is a horrible thing. Either it becomes easier, or it ends up consuming you. Neither is an attractive prospect."

"I know. That's why I've chosen to do it for you."

Ron's frowned. "Is that the reasoning behind your decision to leave the Order?"

"Did you think I did it for kicks?" Wolfe said, and seemed to ponder his own question after he'd asked it. "Well, sometimes it _was_ very gratifying to hear them scream."

"That's exactly what I'm talking about. You've started to enjoy torture."

"I never enjoyed it, but I did come to appreciate its usefulness. I wanted to set some examples, and it worked marvellously."

"Your actions are not without consequence. Did you know that several vigilantes have started to emulate you?" Ron countered, recalling the reports that had started trickling in a few months after Medea Aconit. "I very much doubt that they're adhering to your personal guidelines, and it's only a matter of time before they start persecuting people who don't deserve so harsh a punishment, because the truly talented criminals will elude them very easily."

Wolfe nodded gloomily. "I've heard, and I _did_ fail to anticipate this. I know some of them got themselves killed, too. Believe it or not, their deaths weigh on my conscience."

"And what do you plan to do about it?"

"I was hoping that the Order would clean up after me on this one. Besides, I'd hardly have any credibility anyway, if I started criticising people for emulating me. All I care about now is being with Heidi and my children, after I kill Yamato. Being apart from them is the only thing I regret about choosing my path."

"I reckon the Order will clean up after you. It's not like we have much choice," Ron replied wryly.

Wolfe started to smile, but his smile morphed into a soundless scream as his eyes widened with dismay. Then, as sudden as a bolt of lightning, he disappeared.

X

* * *

**Author's Note: **Please keep R&R-ing. I really appreciate it. Oh, and be advised that I'll bump this fic's rating up to R starting Chapter 9. That means it won't show up on the normal fics list (which is set for G—PG13.) So be sure to pick Ratings: All or R from now on. Or just look me up with the Search function.

The next update will be in two weeks. Sorry, but ten days simply isn't possible anymore. :-(

* * *

**Lourdes**: If you say so. Intricate in what way, though?

**StarWest45**: Don't worry about it. I find your babbling very entertaining.

**Gogirl**: Interesting questions.

**lluvatar**: Tadaa!

**nycgal**: I'm glad you liked the way I brought it.

**Stefanie**: You'll just have to wait and see.

**blah29**: I did take a pause. I've written more chapters than I've posted, giving me a reserve to post when I take some time off.

**Chloe Black**: You'll be waiting for a long time.

**Foxfur**: Actually, when I posted Chapter 7 I was still on vacation. I only got back yesterday. (July 27) Oh, and the bad guy's name is Yamato. Yamamoto was the Japanese Admiral in WWII. :-)

**Bluerain22**: No, I'm not married and I don't have any kids. I'm not ready for children. I frequently forget to water my plants.

**maaike-fluffy**: Nee, ik heb echt vakantie gevierd. Ik heb meerdere hoofdstukken klaarstaan, en ik had deze af voordat jij voor het eerst reviewde. Jij bent niet de eerste die feedback geeft over de overvloedige details in mijn verhaal, en waarschijnlijk niet de laatste. Hoe wel rekening met het feit dat sommige openbaringen in mijn verhaal vaak in de details schuilen.

**Harryronherm09**: I hope I'll be seeing more of you.

**Diuhedui38: **Is your penname the result of random typing, or does it mean something. Just curious.

**The Keymaker**: Gee, you made me feel bad about the fact that I'll be slowing down my writing.

**Saint Mike**: Prior to the chapter I did research on what kind of questions little children ask about sex.

**Elric Magus**: Which is why I endangered the Weasleys. Harry might be invincible now, but his loved ones are not.


	9. Hour of the Wolfe

* * *

Chapter 9

**Hour of the Wolfe**

The subtle sense of dread that had plagued Wolfe ever since Heidi and Ginny's talk about the future multiplied tenfold as Rachel Esklove reported the appearance of a rift in the anti-Apparition wards that prevented most beings from entering the city. He'd been expecting that, of course, but not the fact that it was happening more than half an hour ahead of schedule.

It didn't make sense, for if the Rangers hadn't had forewarning, enabling them to already be in position over Diagon Alley before the attacks began there, they would still have been in Nomad Island. The invading forces would have encountered a group of fully equipped Rangers ready for deployment. Could this mean that Yamato had known that Wolfe would anticipate his move, putting him in a position to outguess Wolfe in this manner?

Aside from some very sketchy information provided by the Dark Trolls and some spies in the underworld, and his knowledge of Yamato's psychological profile, he hadn't had any evidence to support his assumption that Yamato would try to flee to the Mirror Realm through the Umbral Gate. He'd only seen some indication that Yamato was planning to run, but, for the most part, the conclusion that his intended destination was the Mirror Realm had been a hunch. So, it couldn't have been a set-up by means of carefully leaked information on Yamato's part that was now prompting this reaction from Wolfe. But if that wasn't the case, the only explanation would be that Yamato _had_ outguessed him, somehow.

Yamato's unconventional tactics in Diagon Alley, coupled with the sight of the sheer numbers of Yamato's army in Nomad Island, seemed to support this theory. By causing the maximum amount of chaos in England with a minimum amount of resources, he'd been able to concentrate all his forces on _this_ assault. Though Wolfe had never bothered to find out exactly how many Dark Trolls existed, he suspected that nearly all of them were present now. There were over a hundred Dark Trolls—roughly twice as many as Maximus had commanded at Agua Caliente and Laketown—backed by at least three times as many flesh golems cobbled together from organic spare parts. In addition to those, there were about four hundred animated golems made of wood, stone, and metal. They carried simple weapons and weren't too difficult to dispatch, and they primarily served to draw fire away from the more lethal troops.

Wolfe's mind reeled as he realised the implications of this. Yamato had been _very_ close to taking over Anastasiou's former empire from within. Wolfe knew that Maximus hadn't used all of Yamato's resources, though he had hoped that it would have been about eighty or ninety percent. But from the looks of things, Maximus had only known about a little over half of Yamato's resources, leading Wolfe to the conclusion that—had it not been for Maximus' and Malfoy's interference—Yamato probably would have succeeded in deposing Anastasiou. These troops, in addition to the ones destroyed in Laketown, would have overwhelmed Anastasiou's loyal followers, leaving those remaining with the choice to either serve Yamato or die.

"I'm reading strange signatures," Rachel Esklove said. "They look like anti-magic fields. And it looks like the assault force is splitting up. The majority is headed towards the city. The troll formation is headed towards the Umbral Gate."

"_Hurricane_ and _Typhoon_, your mission is to seek out and destroy the generators," Faust began, but was interrupted by Wolfe before he could finish issuing orders.

"Get above the troll formation. The trolls are on my side, and they'll follow my lead as soon as they see me. Don't harm them. If they're carrying the generators, I'll give the order to destroy them, and the invaders will lose their edge," he said, though he very much doubted that Yamato had entrusted the precious generators to the trolls.

Faust looked baffled. "Stand by, Cruisers. Wolfe, what do you mean with 'on my side'?"

"Same way it sounds, Commander. They never stopped serving me, even though I wasn't myself when I took control of them."

"How do you know Yamato isn't controlling them with those magic maggots we found in Brazil?" Adi Ganilau, a young Fijian witch from the Medical Division, asked.

"Because I had several trolls test the maggots out on themselves. The maggots died several hours after introduction because the trolls were unsuitable hosts," Wolfe said impatiently. "Now if you could get above the troll formation before the attackers reach the city…"

Faust nodded to Rachel, who had been looking over her shoulder, awaiting confirmation, and Cruiser lurched into motion, speeding across the crop fields towards the enemy formation.

"I'm getting a transmission from our people near the Umbral Gate," Clara da Silva reported. "They want to know whether they ought to be worried about the assault having started earlier than expected."

"Is Nicolai with them?" Wolfe asked.

"He's the one who told them to call … hold on … he's transmitting directly now. He borrowed Montalban's communicator. I'll put him through to the speaker," Clara said, while she manipulated a few controls.

"Nicolai," Wolfe said, as soon as he heard the static over the speaker.

"I'm here," Nicolai's voice came back, though the transmission was poor, probably due to the interference from the anti-magic fields.

"I think Yamato has outguessed me. He must have anticipated my anticipation of his move. You'll have to disable the Umbral Gate. If I'm right, he probably has a contingency plan to deal with his would-be captors in Shamballah. I don't want to endanger them, so Yamato mustn't reach Shamballah. We'll have to contain him _here_."

"Perhaps Yamato did outguess you, but I don't think so," Nicolai said. "I think he won't be fleeing through the Umbral Gate at all. I believe this is simply a very elaborate diversion to keep you and the Order occupied. The assault force is here to cause as much destruction as possible. Also, Yamato knows that two of your sons are supposed to be in Concordia, vulnerable to attack. Had you not been here, your concern for their safety would have distracted you and possibly even lured you back here. This would have allowed him to flee into the Mirror Realm unnoticed—I think your insight was accurate concerning that part of his plan. But he'll go through the portal in Lake Michigan. It is common knowledge that the natural portal there offers a relatively smooth ride, and it isn't nearly as well guarded as the Umbral Gate. He won't have any trouble slipping by the Ministry officials from the United States."

Wolfe shook his head. "That's not his style. Throughout his criminal career he's often made a point by taking the path of most resistance just to show off. He always wants to rub in his success like that."

"True, but he was never a fugitive within the criminal community before. I think you've underestimated the impact that turn of events had on his psyche. You succeeded in frightening him to such an extent that he's changed his _modus operandi_."

Wolfe's knees went weak as he realised that he'd underestimated his ability to intimidate. He'd been so bent on striking fear into the hearts of his enemies that he'd become _too_ good at it.

"Command and Control to Commander Faust," a very high voice called anxiously. "The wards around Abaris Lane are being suppressed with an anti-magic field."

"This confirms that your sons were the primary targets—possibly the Potter children too," Nicolai said. "Yamato probably wanted the choice between immediate and extended family to paralyse Harry with indecision. He didn't expect _you_ to be here. Had he been expecting it, he'd have known that you'd make sure that your children were evacuated. This is simply a very thorough diversion."

"Err, Wolfe, we'll be in position in a second," Rachel Esklove said.

"Commander Faust," the same young voice returned. "Heidi Gravenstein went back to Abaris Lane for the cats fifteen minutes ago. She hasn't returned."

That shook Wolfe out of his fevered thoughts. He didn't know what had possessed Heidi to go back for a pair of cats. She'd probably acted on the assumption that she'd have some time to spare. Either way, she was defenceless with that anti-magic field in place. "Open the ventral hatch," he said, as he bounded to the levitation circle. Showing surprising speed and agility, Faust managed to join him just in time to ride down with him.

"What are you going to do?"

"A duplicate will lead the trolls in an attack against the golems, so withhold the Rangers and City Watch from attacking to prevent friendly-fire casualties."

"I'll inform them of the situation," Faust nodded. "And what about the original you?"

"I have to rescue Heidi."

"And how did you intend to reach Abaris Lane? Make a duplicate now, and let it jump out. In Portkey mode we can be over Abaris Lane in a heartbeat."

Wolfe saw the wisdom in the commander's suggestion, berating himself for his lack of insight. His fear for Heidi's life had him on the edge of panic, and he knew that it could get him killed. Fortunately, whoever was assailing Abaris Lane didn't have the benefit of a wand either.

He concentrated briefly, feeling a slight tingling sensation as a duplicate stepped out of his body. The duplicate immediately leapt out of the open hatch.

Faust toggled the Cruiser's internal communicator the moment the duplicate was gone. "Rachel, get us over Abaris Lane immediately—Portkey mode."

"Sorry, Commander. The ship's charms work just fine in anti-magic fields, but there's no telling what'll happen to them if we arrive inside one through Portkey mode. But I'll get right on the edge of the field. Hold on!"

A few seconds later, Wolfe saw the ground briefly spin into a blur through the still-open hatch, before reverting to the familiar area on Concordia's third tier. He nodded his thanks to Commander Faust before jumping out. He transformed himself into a Snidget in mid-air, oriented himself and darted towards Abaris Lane.

X

* * *

X 

The duplicates always instinctively knew if there were more of them at one time, and their spot in their creation line-up. Sensing that there was one other duplicate already, he designated himself Beta in order to give make it easier for the original to discern who he was communicating with, if such communication became necessary.

He landed among the trolls in a crouch, not too far from a human controller. The wizard's eyes widened with fear as he saw Wolfe Beta, and a quick jab into his mind revealed the wizard wasn't in control of his own mind. A bunch of set instructions bounced around in his mind, most of which he had to relay to the trolls at the appropriate time.

The wizard drew his wand—a move that surprised Wolfe Beta, since the wizard had to know that his wand wouldn't work. But before the wizard could utter anything, a gigantic war hammer came down on top of him, extinguishing his life with a sickening crunch.

When Wolfe Beta looked up at the offending troll inquisitively, the troll bent down and picked the wand up. With a grubby finger he pointed to an odd thing on the wand. It was a ring with some strange runes etched into them.

"Ring wand work close magic-gone stones. General not know danger," the troll explained in guttural tones.

Wolfe Beta nodded. Only a minority of the trolls bothered to learn human languages properly, but this one knew it well enough to get the point across. Evidently that ring attuned wands to the anti-magic field, enabling them to work. Wolfe Beta realised that his short existence might have ended prematurely if the troll hadn't intervened, so he didn't berate it for using lethal force even though it had killed an innocent. The blame lay with himself, for forgetting to instruct the trolls not to use lethal force beforehand.

As he pocketed the wand, he made a mental note to remind the trolls to use non-lethal force against living targets, in order to avoid more needless tragedy. He glanced up at the troll. "Are our warriors carrying some of these magic-gone stones?"

The troll nodded vigorously.

Wolfe wandlessly cast the Sonorus Charm before he spoke. "Your general commands you to stop marching!"

As one, the moving trolls stopped.

"Which of you carry the magic-gone stones?" he asked, using the Dark Trolls own terminology to simplify the questions.

A large troll some forty feet away grunted affirmatively and pointed at a pack on his back.

"Put it on the ground!" Beta commanded.

The troll tugged at a few rugged leather straps, causing the generator to fall to the frozen ground with a resounding thud. Moments after it hit the floor, Beta cast a Reductor Curse at it with his captured wand, and the generator was reduced to gravel.

Then he turned to the trolls again. "Array in single row battle charge formation!"

Reacting to his command, the trolls scrambled to form a line, using Wolfe Beta's position as an imaginary middle point. Less than a minute later, the trolls stood in a wide row that stretched roughly a hundred yards in either direction. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw that half of the golem army had halted its march towards Concordia in confusion. Whoever was co-ordinating the battle on the enemy's side was probably trying to work out why the trolls weren't reacting to the prearranged instructions. For the Concordians it was a fortunate mistake, since it gave them precious extra time to evacuate to the city's higher levels. It also gave Beta a time for some parting words.

"Our foes outnumber us badly, and many of you will meet your end. But you'll meet it as warriors, and you'll prove to the world that honour ought to be measured by actions instead of origins. You will prove to the world that while you were birthed through the efforts of Vedor's evil mind, you aren't of like mind. The people in the city are not the enemy, and though you may be attacked, you will not respond to it. The humans among the golem army are also to be spared. Take them out of the battle, but harm them as little as you can."

Wolfe Beta scanned the faces of the trolls, and he sensed no aversion to his order.

"It also seems that my quarry has eluded me, and I won't be around to lead you while I pursue him," he continued. "In my absence, you will answer to my Soul Brother. Harry Potter is his name, and all of you know his reputation in battle."

The murmur that rose from the troll formation and the awed expression on their faces told Wolfe that Harry wouldn't have to worry about any challenges to his authority. How Harry would respond to being worshipped by the trolls, however, was another matter entirely.

"I know you will respect him as you respect me," Wolfe Beta added with a smirk. Then he raised his right arm and pounded his fist on his chest. "Strength and honour!"

The trolls' thunderous reply echoed over the field as they mimicked the gesture.

Wolfe Beta drew the wand he'd captured, taking a moment to savour the irony that he'd be using Yamato's invention against him. As those thoughts crossed his mind, he also remembered that the original didn't know about the wand's adaptation, so he briefly allowed his consciousness to touch the original's, relaying the information and getting a feeling of grateful acknowledgement in return. Then he turned to face the opposing formation of golems. The trolls' eagerness for battle was contagious, and Wolfe Beta felt his excitement growing with every heartbeat. The fact that they were outnumbered nearly seven to one didn't bother him at all.

"Charge!" he roared, before breaking into a sprint, channelling magic to quicken his strides and keep ahead of the longer-legged trolls.

He briefly thought about increasing his size, but rejected the idea, since more bulk would make him easier to hit. Taking possible ranged attacks into account, he also zigzagged his run, but no ranged attacks came. To their cost, the enemy hadn't worked out that the trolls had switched sides, probably not having heard Wolfe's speech despite his usage of the Sonorus Charm. So now the full complement of roughly ten dozen trolls ploughed into their enemies' ranks, and over two hundred golems were destroyed in the first two seconds of the clash. This instantly reduced the enemy's numerical superiority to around five-to-one, before the enemy co-ordinator realised what was happening and the golem troops began to defend themselves.

Wolfe Beta couldn't help feeling a profound sense of loss as trolls began to fall around him. Wolfe realised that, after the attack on Hogwarts, and a year after that, Agua Caliente and Laketown, the Dark Trolls had been firmly labelled as evil. He knew that many people standing on the battlements of Concordia's outer walls were perfectly happy to see the golems and trolls wipe each other out. Sure, they were brutish, but they weren't evil. If the Dark Trolls had truly been evil at heart, they wouldn't be assisting him in Concordia's defence.

A strengthened resolve to prove that to the world welled up inside Wolfe Beta, and he began to focus on defending trolls who were in immediate danger of being overwhelmed, instead of destroying golems offensively. This way the golems were still destroyed, but attrition on the trolls was slowed down somewhat. However, he quickly saw that his efforts weren't good enough, and that the trolls weren't outfighting the golems by enough of a margin to prevail. He searched his mind as best he could in the heat of battle, coming up with a solution after thirty costly seconds in which several more trolls had fallen.

He gathered his energy and leapt over the entire golem army, landing between them and Concordia's city walls. Then he pointed the captured wand towards the sky, making a twirling motion. Immediately, clouds gathered over the battlefield, and a grey column descended out of those clouds, pulling every nearby golem into its whirling embrace. It also sucked the snow off the ground, quickly turning the whirlwind white.

"Your general commands you to retreat," Wolfe Beta bellowed, while the magic tornado cut a ragged path through the uneven battle lines, plucking more golems off the ground and allowing the trolls to retreat. Some were cut down by swarms of golems, but most _did_ manage to retreat. And after they were out of harm's way, he intensified the power of the vortex, though he was careful to keep it away from the robed humans that had become more prominent as the ranks of golems thinned out.

When he had most of the golems in the vortex, he transformed the circulation into a powerful downburst that hurled its entire contents against Nomad Island's frozen soil. The force of impact was enough to destroy even the stone and metal golems, and the ones made of wood and the grotesque flesh golems were utterly annihilated, effectively ending the battle. Less than two dozen golems remained.

Wolfe Beta sprinted towards the remaining foes, stunning the wizards and destroying the golems. The trolls had obviously realised that his earlier call for a retreat had been of a tactical nature, and the situation had changed after the tornado's carnage. They too had re-engaged the remainder of the enemy, and they disposed of the last few golems with ease, before clustering around their general. Less than half of the trolls remained.

He opened his mouth, intending to praise the survivors, but he was cut short as the power that sustained his existence was abruptly cut off.

X

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X 

Wolfe flew through Abaris Lane in Snidget form, looking for whoever was responsible for the anti-magic field. He took care to skirt closely over roofs and along walls, keeping out of sight as much as possible, for even though the Snidget was small, it wasn't invisible. He knew he might not be recognised if spotted, but a Snidget was such an unusual sight that someone might be tempted to try and capture him for fun.

Not having seen any movement at his own home, Wolfe carefully made his way through Abaris Lane, looking for suspicious movement. A tingling at the periphery of his consciousness brought Wolfe's attention to other matters. It was the duplicate he'd left with the trolls, telling him that the enemy might have working wands. It also told him that he'd have a working wand too, if he managed to capture one.

Wolfe continued to do cursory inspections of the houses until he came upon the Lescoriere residence. He saw some movement inside, and he briefly hovered in front of an open window to see what was going on, keeping as closely to a corner as possible. He saw three masked people clad in black dragon-hide suits. Two were immediately in front of him, while another stood a bit further away, by the front door. They had crossbows slung across their backs, and several throwing knives tucked in their boots and easily accessible sheaths. They also had their wands in special holsters, and Wolfe knew that he had to capture one of them for use.

A drawback to his Animagus forms was that he couldn't employ his Mind Reading gift as an animal, but in this case he didn't need to employ his gift to know that these men weren't under any mind-control. These men were among the wizarding world's top assassins, and Wolfe wondered what kind of guarantees Yamato had given them to coax them into accepting this mission. Trickery was out of the question, since every criminal in the wizarding world knew the consequences of going after Wolfe's loved ones.

The devices on their wrists looked like Portkeys, telling Wolfe that the possibility of immediate escape was one on the factors that had led them to consider this mission. The other factor was probably the masks, which hid their faces from identification.

Wolfe attention was drawn back to event within the house as another three masked men dragged the Lescorieres and Heidi into the living room. His anger flared as one of the wizards backhanded Heidi across her face, sending her sprawling to the floor. It enraged him so much that he had trouble maintaining his Animagus form, and it didn't get any better when the man pulled Heidi back up by her hair and shoved her against the wall.

"Where are the Wolfes?" the one who had hit Heidi barked.

"They're … in another part of town." Heidi groaned in pain. "Their a-aunt has taken them shopping."

Heidi's acting ability impressed Wolfe. Had he not known better, her reply certainly would have convinced him, so smooth and effortless was the lie. And he also appreciated her cunning in trying to keep the assassins occupied, knowing that it wouldn't take long for help to arrive.

"She's lying, and she's stalling!" another of the masked figures hissed. "She knew of the attack beforehand. The brats are at the Rangers' headquarters."

As the masked figure spoke, Wolfe realised that Yamato had equipped them with Mind Reading potion or powder.

"What? Who warned her?"

"Wolfe!"

"He's here? Then we'd better leave before he finds us!" the one who had struck Heidi said, and Wolfe's anxiety slowly diminished.

"Wait! The redhead bitch has a deeper connection to him. She's not merely his brats' guardian. She's his woman too, and she thinks she's pregnant with his bastard. She's a viable target. We should take her with us, and we shouldn't linger here much longer. The Rangers might arrive soon."

"The Rangers are far too busy dealing with the diversion outside the city."

"Nevertheless, we should hurry," the Mind Reader said, while he extracted a Portkey from one of his pockets. It was similar to the ones the men were wearing.

Panic was threatening to overwhelm Wolfe now. He knew that the assassins' kidnapping plan would have served the purpose of keeping his mind off Yamato while he agonised over Heidi's whereabouts. Heidi's survival was not an issue, since they weren't going to ransom her. They wouldn't keep her alive very long, either—he couldn't let them leave with her.

Wolfe darted backwards some ten metres before plunging forwards, gaining momentum as he neared the window. The moment he was through, he changed back into human form in the blink of an eye and slammed into two of the assassins, sending them crashing into the wall—the sheer force of the impact causing some of the Lescorieres' carefully arrayed pottery to tumble off a shelf.

While crashing into his foes, Wolfe had also made a successful grab at one of their wands. He aimed it at the man holding Heidi and shot a stunner at him, taking care to aim at his unshielded neck. Wolfe didn't pause as the man slumped into Heidi, instead tracking his next target and shooting another stunner, hitting him in the throat and taking his fourth enemy out of the fight.

His finely honed instincts told him that one of the two remaining attackers—the one that had been standing by the front door—probably had him lined for a curse by now. He leapt aside, noticing a green light reflected on the highly polished coffee table as he tumbled over a leather sofa. A moment later, he hit the ground between the sofa and the table, grabbed the table, and, as he rose, hurled it at where he remembered the wizard had been standing. A muffled grunt and a cracking sound revealed that his aim had been true. Then Wolfe turned and aimed at the last wizard—who had been about to hex Heidi. He cast a stunner that was so powerful that it knocked the wizard cleanly through the thin wall that separated the kitchen from the living room.

His keen hearing and sense of smell told him that it wasn't over yet, as he picked up the sound of three pairs of padded boots and the scent of dragon-hide. Friends would have been wearing Graphorn hide, so Wolfe knew that these were foes. Two of them burst through the front simultaneously, prepared to curse whoever they found first.

Since he knew that hitting two fast-moving targets in a narrow unshielded aperture was too difficult, Wolfe used a Banishing charm to slam one into the other as hard as possible. The banished wizard lifted his companion off his feet, and both slammed into the wall with a crunching noise—their dragon-hide armour evidently being the supple variation that did little to protect the wearer from physical trauma. As soon as he was done with those two, he turned to the last one, realising that it was too late. A tall, potted plant blocked the only angle Wolfe could have used to deflect the curse with one of his own. Time seemed to slow down as he saw the wizard glare at Heidi as greenish light began to blossom out of the tip of his wand. He knew that his life without Heidi would be worthless, so he did the only thing that he could do. There was no time to waste, and Wolfe imagined hearing his inner voice crying out to _jump now_. ****

He threw himself in front of Heidi … and the dividing cluster of cells in her womb that would become their baby, trusting Heidi to have the presence of mind to pick up his wand out of his lifeless hand and dispatch the assassin.

X

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X 

**VERY IMPORTANT FOR MY SELF ESTEEM.**** Please read.**

**AUTHOR"S NOTE:** Sorry to be whining about this again, but I can't help getting the feeling that I'm doing something wrong if I get less than a certain amount of reviews. I've poured a part of my soul into this chapter. I did my utmost to place myself in the shoes of a character about to sacrifice himself for someone he loves. Please **Review **this one! It doesn't matter what you say. If you disagree and find Wolfe's attitude unrealistic that's fine too. If you believe the action descriptions are too technical in your opinion, tell me. (Suggestions on alternative writing styles would be most welcome in such a case.) If you think I ought to vary the use of my tenses, tell me. If you think Wolfe's _Gladiator_-like speech to the trolls was superfluous, tell me. If you think writing from the duplicate's point of view was weird or confusing, say so. But say (write) _something_. Even it _is_ a one-liner of encouragement.

On another note, I'd like to dedicate this chapter to my beta Christine. My diskette got corrupted and my pc crashed, resulting in a catastrophic loss of data. Fortunately she still had my work on file, which is why I was able to post this here today. If the chapters hadn't been recovered, I probably would have given up on the story entirely, since it's proving very difficult to write, and due to the disappointingly little feedback the last few chapters have yielded. A 'Thank You' for Christine in your review would also be much appreciated.

**Gogirl**: I decided to update this chapter early in celebration for my beta's good sense and the fact that I just got a burst of inspiration that'll allow me to write several chapters without any problems. Oh, and how did you like _this _cliffhanger?

**NCDSbookworm**: Matt's family? What family would that be? His parents and brother are dead, and the only other relative to make the screen was a cousin of his. Or did you mean his kids?

**battlefield-addict**: Would you like to answer the questions I asked in my Author's Note, if it isn't too much bother? Thanks for your review, though. Even though it was a one-worder I still appreciate it.

**Saint Mike**: Thanks. That research took a lot of time.

**Bluerain22**: Almost everything in my fics happen for a reason. :-)

**Numba1**: The Weaslseys intellectually understand that there's a grey area, but they haven't lived a life like Wolfe's. He was taught that the only way to ensure that justice would be done was to see it through by oneself.

**maaike-fluffy**: Wolfe laveert op moment een beetje tussen het licht en de duisternis. Trouwens, als Ron hem aan zijn eigen woorden had herinnerd had Wolfe iets gezegd in de trant van; Different times, different circumstances.

**Fragarach**: I needed a little variety.

**Foxfur**: No, your memory serves you well. It was discussed in Chapter 27 of Mind War.

**The Keymaker**: You thought _that_ cliffhanger was evil?

**blah29**: Funny that you mentioned points of view in your feedback. ;-) This chapter was finished way before I posted Chapter 8, so your review didn't influence my writing. But it was still a funny coincidence.

**Chelli Potter**: Yes, Ironheart did pass his Incubus traits onto Wolfe. And the reason Nicolai's effects are stronger is because Nicolai has more incubus blood. For the life of me I can't remember which chapter I wrote this, but Aria is one-half incubus too. That's the reason she married Ironheart; it was an arranged marriage to keep the peace between two incubus clans. So Ironheart's daughters by Aria were also one-half incubus (second generation maybe, but still…) while his son and daughters by other women had thinner blood. That's why Nicolai has stronger incubus powers than Wolfe.

**Elric Magus**: It isn't just you.

**Lioness-07863**: That's okay. You don't have to review every chapter. So why did I just whine about reviews? Because the list of people who have marked my fics as a favourite keeps growing while the reviews are slowly dropping. Do you think it too much to ask _why _people like your stuff?

**Zuzuanni**: OJ, eh? ;-)

**lluvatar**: Here it is. Care to answer the questions I asked in the A/N?

**Lady of Masbolle**? I don't mean to be rude, but _why_ did you love it?

**Darkflower2113**: _You _I answered in an e-mail.


	10. Edge of the Abyss

Chapter 10

**Edge of the Abyss**

The sound of someone humming an odd tune echoed around in Wolfe's mind, slowly but insistently coaxing him back to consciousness. Opening his eyes, he saw an uneven, rocky surface gleaming dimly in soft light, confirming that he was indeed in a cave. He'd already suspected it, since he'd awoken once before in pitch-darkness and explored the rocky, uneven surroundings by touch.

He was glad to have the benefit of vision back, since it would allow him to find the cave's exit more easily. The harrowing experience of trying to find his way out by touch had plagued his dreams incessantly.

Wolfe sat upright, looking for the light source that was now allowing him to see his surroundings. He found it to be a small blue fire, five or so yards away. A very familiar-looking old man was sitting on a rock next to it.

"Master Lei!"

The man shook his head. "No. This face merely serves to put you at ease."

Wolfe narrowed his eyes. "Who are you?"

"Who are _you_?"

Wolfe was briefly taken aback. "How did I get here?"

"You were born."

"Why am I alive?"

"Well, that _is_ the question, isn't it?" The old man chuckled briefly, before his face took on the grave expression Master Lei had so often worn. "You were dreaming?"

"Yes," Wolfe replied.

"About what?" The man stared at him intently for a few seconds, before continuing. "You were dreaming about escape, weren't you? Don't. There's no way to escape the Abyss. You might as well give up … reconcile yourself, as I did."

"The first obligation of a prisoner is to escape."

"Ah … so, if one is a prisoner of love, one must escape to solitude? If one is a prisoner of joy, one must escape to sadness?"

The fact that the man was able to read his thoughts so effortlessly was disconcerting. Wolfe concentrated, trying to read the man's mind, and was dismayed when nothing happened. He either didn't have access to his gift anymore, or the old man was so adept at blocking the ability that he seemed to not even be there.

"I see you are still upset that I won't tell you my name. But what does it matter? What good would knowledge of my name do in this situation? It tells you nothing, but leaves me at a disadvantage. Words have meaning and names have power. The Multiverse began with a word, you know. But which came first? The word, or the thought behind the word? You can't create language without thought, and you can't conceive thought without a language. So, which created the other, and thus created the Multiverse?"

The man paused, probably expecting Wolfe to answer. But he stubbornly kept silent, and the man heaved an exasperated sigh.

"No, I see you're far to wrapped up in your question to consider the larger issues," he said, before he rose from his rocky perch and walked over to Wolfe.

"What question?" Wolfe asked, eyeing the man warily as he came closer.

"Who are you?"

Even though he'd been trying hard to keep the man out of his mind, it was disconcerting how easily the man had seen through him. "How did you—"

"It's a dangerous question, isn't it?" the man continued blithely, cutting off Wolfe's question. "There's never a good answer to it. I suppose that's the point. Now, _what_ you are—_that's_ a question I can answer, at least, in your case. You're dead."

"I wouldn't be standing here talking to you if I were dead, would I?"

"Does the blood still flow in your veins?" the man asked evenly.

Wolfe checked his pulse, and was horrified when he found nothing. "No pulse," he muttered.

"Because, my reluctant friend, you are quite, quite dead."

Wolfe shook off the old man's crazy suggestion. He had better things to do, like finding the way out. He spotted the entrance to a tunnel, a bit farther away. He clambered to his feet, and as he did so, he noticed a deep chasm about four yards from where he'd been lying.

"The Abyss," the old man said

Wolfe shuddered as he realised that he could have plunged to his doom if he'd continued with his exploration in the dark a bit longer. He pushed the apprehension to the back of his mind and headed towards the tunnel.

"Nothing to say about being dead?" the man asked, as he followed Wolfe.

"It's a trick!" Wolfe snarled, quickening his pace.

"Is it? Tell me, what is the last thing you remember before waking up here?"

Wolfe stopped in his tracks. Images of Heidi's peril flashed through his mind, and how he'd jumped in front of her to protect her. He remembered the bright green light blinding him.

"I jumped in front of a Killing Curse."

"Were you hit?"

Wolfe found that he couldn't recall felling any pain. "I don't remember."

"There are only two possibilities. If the curse struck you, you're dead. But if it didn't, then this is all a dream." The man frowned, as something seemed to occur to him. "Unless … you're in between."

"Between what?"

"Between … moments … measured with each tick of the clock. Tick, a possibility for joy is gone. Tock, a reckless action ends one path, but opens another. Tick, tock, tick, tock. Always running out of time." He levelled his gaze at Wolfe. "Yours is almost used up. You are between seconds, lost in the infinite possibilities between tick and tock. Tick … your life. Tock … well, it was a good life, but a short one. Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick—"

The man's impersonation of a clock ceased abruptly as Wolfe slammed him into the wall of the cave.

"How do I know you're not behind all this, huh? Just what are you up to? Who are you?"

As his question echoed through the cave, Wolfe thought he heard a scream through the echoes. It sounded like Heidi's voice.

"You're closer now, aren't you? Yes … I see you are. But closer to tick, or closer to tock? I don't know. Only time will tell, and here, between the moments, we have all the time in the world."

Feeling even more disturbed than ever, Wolfe released him and entered the tunnel.

The light of the blue fire dimmed as he moved deeper into the tunnel, and soon he was in immersed in darkness again. He could hear the old man's footsteps behind him, and from the sound of it, the old man had to know the tunnel like the back of his hand, for he never seemed to stumble.

He didn't know how long he'd stumbled around in the darkness, hugging the wall to ensure that he was still headed deeper into the cave, and growing more and more irritated about the old man's lack of decency to offer him guidance. When it seemed like he'd been walking for days, he finally saw a dim light at the end of the tunnel.

His spirits lifted, and with the light's benefit, he quickly made his way to the end of the tunnel. His spirits came crashing down as he recognised the chamber to be the same one he'd left.

"I've come full circle," he groaned.

"Don't we all?" the man replied laconically.

Wolfe turned to the man. "Look, you've been down here longer than I have."

The man nodded serenely. "Oh much, much longer."

"Well, there must be some way out of here."

'Tick, you're alive. Tock, you're dead. The only way out is to surrender to tock."

"No, no … I can't do that. There's a madman on the loose, and if he isn't stopped, many people will die."

"Nothing goes on forever. Not you, and not even I. Not love, nor life. Entropy consumes everything. We all cease to exist sooner or later, and all mortals _die_."

"Well, they'd be dying before their time," Wolfe persisted. "And those would be the lucky ones. The survivors would have to live under the oppression of that madman. Don't you care about that?"

"Of course I care. It's a terrible thing when the gifts you've given are abused. There's always a price for that abuse, but it doesn't stop the abusers—it never does."

Wolfe frowned. It hadn't gone unnoticed to him when the man spoke of mortals. Now the man was talking about gifts he apparently bestowed on people.

"If you won't answer who you are, and if you're unwilling to give me your name, perhaps you'll tell me _a_ name. If you're immortal, odds are that you're mentioned in mythology, like the Draconians and the Nalhati. What name—or names—did the mortals have for you?"

The old man gave Wolfe an amused grin. "Good, you're learning to ask the right questions. I've been called Thoth, Odin, Okuni-Nushi, Ea, and many other names."

"You're a god? The god of magic?"

"I find that word far too unspecific. I am the consciousness behind magic. And I don't knowingly bestow magic power on beings destined to be evil," the old man continued, answering the question Wolfe had been about to ask him. "The knowledge of who will be evil is outside my sphere of influence, for no one is born evil."

"Wolfe shrugged. I guess. So, if you _are_ the 'consciousness behind magic,' that means that you know a way out of here."

"Perhaps."

"You haven't _always_ been here?"

"No."

"Why are you still here?"

"I've been waiting."

"For what?"

"Someone to talk to. You're the first to make it this far—actually, the second. The first one was an infant, and his fate did not lie in my hands, or in his own, like yours is now. Therefore, I was unable to have this conversation with him. The One beyond me immediately sent him on his way."

"Harry!"

"Yes, Harry. It's amazing how similar your lives are. You even share many common Soul Mates."

"Wait a minute! You said that Harry having been here wasn't your doing. _My_ being here _is_?"

"Perhaps. We all have secrets and surprises." The old man's serene smile turned more enigmatic. "Did you know you have a Nalhati inside you? Well, a piece of one," he amended.

That statement brought the vivid recollection of the inner voice telling Wolfe to _jump now_, to interpose himself between the curse and Heidi. Again, the answer seemed obvious.

"Novoridu."

"Is that his name?" the man muttered absently. "I think I met him once, long ago."

Wolfe sat down of a flat stone outcropping next to the fire. This was all very interesting, but he still didn't know how to get out.

"You're clinging to life, and that's the problem. You're afraid to let go. But if you want to leave, you must lay down the burden of life. You must surrender yourself to tock."

Wolfe shook his head. "I can't. The others need me."

"You can't turn away from death simply because you're afraid of what might happen without you. That's not enough. You're not embracing life, you're fleeing death. And so you're caught in between, unable to go forwards or backwards. Your friends need what you can be when you're no longer afraid. When you know _who_ you are, _why_ you are, and _what you want_. When you are no longer looking for reasons to live… but can simply be."

"I can't … I don't know how to do that."

Then I can't help you, and you will be caught forever in between. You must let go. Surrender yourself to death. The death of flesh, and the death of fear. Step into the abyss, and let go. Remember why you jumped in front of certain death."

The feelings Wolfe had felt when making the decision surged through him again, helping him remember. He'd considered Heidi and his unborn child's lives as more important than revenge, even if it meant losing his son.

As that thought crossed his mind, the light in the cave began to dim. The rocky floor rippled, and the Abyss was sliding closer in a very surreal way. Even though he was a wizard, and once a Ranger, he'd never seen anything like it in all his years.

"It's getting darker."

"I know. You're close, friend. Very close. It's easy to find something worth dying for. Do you have anything worth living for?"

"The same reason I was willing to die," Wolfe instantly answered, thinking of Heidi and his children.

"And therein lies the key," the old man's voice sounded from complete darkness.

"I can't see you anymore," Wolfe said, feeling slight panic.

"As it should be."

The man's words faded into nothingness, and for a brief moment Wolfe found himself floating in pitch-darkness again, unable to see, hear or smell anything. But the total sensory deprivation disappeared as quickly as it came, the silence suddenly broken by the rhythmic pounding akin to a beating heart. _His_ heart.

Wolfe almost welcomed the burning in his lungs, before he soothed it with a deep breath. Then he opened his eyes, looking into the shocked faces of Clara da Silva and Rolf Larsson.

He smiled.

X

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X 

"So we arrive just as Wolfe's hit by the _Avada Kedavra_, and the curse rebounds off him, back into the caster. When Clara checked Wolfe about fifteen seconds later—it took us that long to pry Heidi off him, she was hysterical—there was no heartbeat, so we thought the curse killed him. Then he starts breathing again," Larsson told the enraptured Ranger audience, assembled in the mess hall.

"But if he was dead, he couldn't have come back to life just like that," Adi Ganilau protested.

"I'm not a Healer. I only checked his pulse the non-magical way, and I only held my finger to the artery for a few seconds," Clara said with a shrug. "Maybe his heart slowed down. I mean, his grandfather _did_ teach him some weird techniques to control his body. So maybe he didn't come back to life at all. Maybe he simply didn't die in the first place. Actually, I dared to assume that _before_ I checked him, because Killing Curses don't tend to rebound off targets, back onto their casters. If that hadn't happened, I wouldn't have bothered to check him for signs of life."

"I wonder how he did it," Khan said. "Is it a _raw power_ thing, or can it be taught? It would be convenient if we were able to block the Killing Curse, too."

That brought a chorus of murmurs out of the crowd, and Harry was wondering about the same thing. He even had a few theories of his own. Maybe the protection that had been the result of his mother's sacrifice had somehow been replicated in Wolfe after they had merged into Phoenix. After all, Wolfe had also copied Harry's Parselmouth gift, just as Harry had copied Wolfe's ability in Mind Reading. The only flaw in this theory was the warning Dumbledore had given Harry at the end of his sixth year at Hogwarts, namely, that he should always dodge when someone was planning to curse him, because his mother's sacrifice wouldn't repel a Killing Curse twice. So why had it worked for Wolfe? Could it be that the protection had been refreshed because Wolfe was another person?

Some people were looking in Harry's direction, wondering if he knew something they didn't, and Harry was beginning to feel the urge to render himself intangible again and sink through the floor.

Fortunately, Commander Faust came in, providing a distraction. "All right, people, get back to what you would have been doing today if Mr Wolfe hadn't warned us about the attack."

"There are no bodies to clean up, sir," Khan said.

Faust frowned. "What do you mean?"

"If Wolfe hadn't warned us about the attack, we'd be picking up the Concordian citizens' body parts," Khan said with a grin, and the assembled Rangers laughed.

Faust's moustache quivered and turned upwards slightly. "Let me rephrase my orders, then. Get working on what you would have been doing if there hadn't been an attack. I believe you and your team were on patrol."

Khan heaved an annoyed sigh. "We were due back early tomorrow morning. Can't we stay?"

"And send your replacements out early? That wouldn't be fair to _them_."

"And it would be a bad idea, too," Clara da Silva said. "The smarter bad guys know that we're all here now. They might try to take advantage of our slower response time."

"I suppose it _is_ too much to ask," Khan said, his face turning serious again. "What about Marco Salas and Tariq Ben-Hamoud? If I'm not mixing up my schedules, they ought to have been in the relieving patrol. I reckon they'll be out of it for a while."

"Yeah, will Marco be all right?" Danielle Esklove asked.

"He'll live, thanks to the extra potency of the Miraculum-Weed-enriched potions and salves," Faust announced, and the Rangers murmured approvingly. "Now get back to work, the lot of you!"

The Rangers broke up and headed to the various exits of the mess hall. Harry made to leave as well, but Faust's meaningful glance made him stay.

Khan had also remained behind, and was asking Faust about Ben-Hamoud. "—lost his wand arm. He won't be nearly as good at spell work with his off hand, and even a very good magical prosthesis made by the artificers won't be as good as the real thing for wielding weapons."

Harry felt his blood chill in his veins. He hadn't thought of that earlier. Long ago, the Healing Arts had hit a proverbial roadblock when it came to further advances in the area of limb regeneration. The Healers still didn't know how to re-grow anything more complicated than lost fingers and toes. Tariq wouldn't necessarily have to leave the Order of Illumination if he didn't want to, but he'd certainly never serve in combat duty again.

"Actually, it seems that Mr Savin has heard of Ben-Hamoud's plight. He thinks it is possible to brew a potion that mimics a crustacean's ability to regenerate entire severed limbs," Faust said, with evident awe in his voice. "He says he already has the formula worked out in his mind, and that he'll brew it as soon as he's done attending to the duties in Shamballah."

"Yes, the crowning." Khan shook his head. "I forgot all about that, in the excitement. It's a pity the boy can't multiply himself like his cousin can."

Faust laughed. "_That_ would certainly be very handy, wouldn't it? I'll see you tomorrow, Sahid, and you don't need to hurry with your patrol report. I expect to be buried in the tons of paperwork that Yamato's attack will bring forth. Many people will want an explanation."

"You're forgetting press conferences about the Man-Who-Lived."

"I'll leave those to Gustava," Faust said.

Khan grinned, tossed Faust an informal salute and strode out of the mess hall, leaving Faust alone with Harry. The rotund German turned to Harry.

"Aberforth Dumbledore sent me to find you. He needs to talk to you."

"What about?"

"He didn't say. All he said was that it was extremely important. I think it may have something to do with Wolfe's survival."

"All right. Where is he?"

"Medical wing, in the recovery room adjacent to the captain's personal laboratory. You know, I think I'll come with you. I'm rather curious about how he survived, myself." Faust smiled. "How does it feel not to be the only Boy-Who-Lived any more?"

"I still _am_ the only Boy-Who-Lived, because there was more to that name than simply surviving the Killing Curse. It was also about stopping a wizard who'd _never_ been stopped from killing once he'd decided to kill someone. But aside from that, Sahid was right. _Man_-Who-Lived would be a more appropriate name for Wolfe."

"Commander Faust," an anxious voice sounded from the tiny speaker on Faust's shoulder. "The United States' Ministry just sent word about a break in the barriers around the Mirror Realm portal in Lake Michigan."

"On my way," Faust said. He shook his head. "Sounds like Yamato escaped. Well, Harry, you'll have to fill me in on Aberforth's information later. Ah, the burdens of command. I have no idea how Donovan managed to hold the job for such a long time. You know, I've been toying with an idea—tell me what you think."

"What about Yamato?"

"He's already gone. Two minutes isn't going to make much difference."

Harry nodded. "All right, I'm listening."

"Provided that the Order of Illumination continues to grow as it has been these last five years, and provided that we get a nice long stretch of relative peace, I was thinking about implementing a peacetime directive which would place limits on the officers' ages. It would allow younger Rangers to make Lieutenant more easily."

"Why this idea?"

"Currently, lieutenants may serve in an officer's capacity until they're sixty-five, captains until they're seventy-five, and commanders until they're eighty-five. Though many officers retire before they reach their maximum age, there were a few that stayed on that long. I'd like to readjust the maximum age downward for all officers, but _especially_ for lieutenants.

"The reason for this is that, when I was a beginning Fourth-Class Ranger, there were two Martial Division lieutenants who stayed on until they were sixty-five. They were very competent, but it was obvious that they couldn't keep up with the younger Rangers in the field—experience can only compensate for so much. Off the top of my head, I could name three Rangers who could easily have replaced them. But these Rangers never got the chance to do so, because, by the time those two lieutenants retired, the younger three had retired too. Vassily Poliakoff and I were thrust into the officers' ranks, though we weren't experienced enough. If those two lieutenants had retired in their mid-fifties, the more experienced Rangers would have replaced them, and Vassily and I would have had six or seven more years to gain additional experience."

Harry frowned. "I see your point, sir. But it wouldn't really be fair to shorten the service time for Combat Ranger lieutenants without doing the same in the other divisions."

"I thought of that. I'll reduce the maximum age in _every_ division. Now, if a Ranger wants to continue serving in the Order after his official service time is up, we could use the structure very much like the one we used after the war, with the retired Rangers that had come back to mitigate the attrition. These semi-retired Rangers could continue to work, albeit in a diminished capacity, like Sharif and Serafina in the Medical Division, and Mei Yee and Janos Gaal in the Artificer's Division."

"What about Fourth Class Rangers who are about to retire after completing the twenty-year minimum? I know for a fact that a handful of them don't want to stop yet, even though they won't be promoted to officers. They're still in their early to mid-forties."

"I have a plan for them, too. They could even continue to work full time, still going in the field if they're Combat Rangers or Intel Field Operatives, but serving as personal mentors, trainers and coaches for the recruits and the Seventh Class Rangers. That would free up the other experienced Rangers for the really serious work."

"Sounds good. It's not that I don't like instructing the inexperienced Rangers, but at times I felt that my abilities would be more useful elsewhere."

Faust chuckled. "I know, your wife told me. That partially led to my coming up with this plan."

If Faust hadn't admitted to agreeing with Harry's feelings, Harry would have been mortified. He resolved to have a talk with his wife about discussing things he said in their private moments with others, especially if it concerned critical comments. Though Harry knew his wife well enough to realise that she'd probably mentioned his views to Faust _after_ the commander had somehow touched on the subject, he still thought she should have told him about the commander's plan first, leaving him with the choice to talk to Faust.

"Commander Faust, you haven't moved from your previous position. Is everything all right?" the same anxious voice that had called him before sounded through the small speaker on his shoulder.

"I am on my way, Miss Prela," Faust said in a professional tone, though he was giving Harry a long-suffering look.

"When did you plan to implement this peacetime directive, sir?"

"Provided that times remain relatively calm and we find enough recruits— about six years."

"Sounds feasible."

"Commander Faust—"

"Coming, mother!" Faust barked.

X

* * *

X 

Ginny pushed the private recovery room's door open, encountering quite a crowd on the other side. A tired-looking but otherwise perfectly healthy Wolfe was sitting up in bed, his back supported by a pile of pillows. Heidi sat across his lap, and Henry and Caesar the Crup were perched on the foot of the bed.

Surprisingly, Robert sat on a chair next to the bed, looking up at his father with newly found admiration. He was probably thinking that his father had become just as great as 'the famous Harry Potter' and dreaming about the benefits this would have for his status among his schoolmates, and was barely aware of Rachel Kelly, who shared the chair with him and was cuddling up to him.

Jasmine, Charlie Jr, Nicolai, Mary, and Aberforth occupied chairs against the walls. Rosie was sitting on her big brother's lap, peppering him with questions about school, which was what she'd been doing ever since he got back a few days ago. Crookshanks and Annabelle were occupying the last chair, and the ginger cat looked up at Ginny haughtily, daring her to chase him away.

"The Lescorieres didn't waste any time before spreading the word," Ginny began. "Percy and Hannah knew what had happened before I did."

Wolfe sighed. "They told everyone about the Man-Who-Lived, eh?"

"They did mention that _in passing_, though, from what I've heard, they mostly concentrated on how you barged in like a barbarian and wrecked their house," Ginny added with a grin.

Flames of anger rose in Heidi's eyes. "Why, those—"

"It's all right, Heidi," Wolfe said gently, before leaning forward to kiss her on the lips.

Heidi, however, would have none of it, and she pulled back. "But you saved their lives, too! They …they ought to show more gratitude!" she sputtered indignantly.

"When the realisation that they owe me their lives finally makes its way through their crooked and narrow thought patterns to the part of the brain they think with, I'm sure they'll stop their ranting."

"Ugh! Those nasty Lescorieres," Heidi huffed. "I almost wish you hadn't saved them."

"I wouldn't even have been in the neighbourhood if you hadn't been in trouble. What possessed you to go back for the cats at Ron and Hermione's, anyway? You know Crookshanks is more than capable of looking after himself and Annabelle. Right, Crookshanks?"

Crookshanks flicked his tail in agreement, looking offended by the mere suggestion that he wouldn't have been able to keep himself out of trouble.

Heidi scowled at Crookshanks. "Don't look at me like that, you ginger—"

Wolfe placed his hands across Heidi's mouth. "Not in front of the kids."

Heidi got a twinkle in her eyes, and Wolfe removed his hand from her mouth a second later, wiping it off on the sheet. "Oh, that was nasty."

The mischievous twinkle in Heidi's eyes intesified. "What's so nasty about licking the palm of your hand, compared to all the other places—"

"Don't go there!" Wolfe pleaded. "We've got guests. Really, why don't you go on Padma Patil's Wireless Broadcast Hour and tell all of Concordia about it."

"Yeah, I _really_ don't want to know anything about my brother in that context," Jasmine said.

"Way to go, Aunt Heidi!" Charlie Junior commented cheekily, earning a slap to the back of his head from his mother.

"We can always have some girl-talk later, and you can tell me all about it," Mary said playfully, surprising Ginny and all the other women in the room, for it was no secret that she'd felt threatened by Heidi, with regards to her relationship with Nicolai. Then it occurred to Ginny that it probably had something to do with the fact that Heidi's attention was now squarely fixed on Wolfe, leaving no doubt in Mary's mind that she wasn't a threat any longer.

"Ah, Harry's coming," Wolfe said, just as a feeling of warmth passed through Ginny's heart, something she always felt when Harry got closer than two hundred feet.

If she concentrated, she could always get a vague sense of his feelings no matter where he was. But when he was close to her, it was like they had a permanent empathic link. She couldn't read his thoughts, but she could read his feelings quite clearly. At the moment she was sensing a great deal of curiosity, as well as a bit of anxiety.

Aberforth cleared his throat. "I'm afraid everyone but Nicolai and myself will have to leave after Harry arrives."

"Oh, _really_!" Heidi and Ginny exclaimed simultaneously, and in very similar tones.

Nicolai seemed taken aback by the mutinous reply, but Aberforth's eyes had the famous Dumbledore twinkle in them. "I suppose, being the better halves of the men concerned, an exception can be made for the two of you."

Mary frowned. "Better halves? _Plural?_" She looked at Heidi and Wolfe incredulously. "Did you two get married in secret last night?"

Ginny was about to explain to Mary that Aberforth hadn't meant it literally in the sense that Heidi and Wolfe were officially wed, when Henry spoke up. "They didn't get married. But that's okay, because people don't have to be married to make babies, right, Aunt Heidi?"

For a few tense seconds, one would have been able to hear a pin drop, before Heidi broke the silence.

_"Henry!"_ she huffed, blushing furiously.

Ginny erupted in laughter, and the adults and teenagers joined her, leaving the four younger children to cast awkward looks at the strange behaviour of their elders.

"Honestly, Aunt Heidi, there's no reason to be embarrassed," Charlie Junior said between giggles. "It's not like he's saying anything we didn't already know. If I hadn't been able to read your thoughts, your behaviour still would've given you—" He was forced to stop, in order to lean to the side and evade another swat from his mother. "Come on, Mum, she was broadcasting!"

"That's no reason to bring it up. You wanted to add to her embarrassment," Jasmine said, as she collected Rosie from his lap. "Come on, we're going."

"Do I have to go too, Dad?" Robert asked, eyeing his father hopefully.

"Only for a few minutes."

With a sigh of resignation, Robert slid off his chair, followed closely by Rachel. Jasmine helped Henry off the high hospital bed, before herding the children towards the door, which Mary was holding open.

"What about the animals?" Heidi asked.

"I don't think they'll tell anyone else what we're about to discuss," Aberforth said.

"True, but they ought to know their place," Wolfe replied. "Caesar, Crookshanks, Annabelle … out!"

The Crup obediently leapt of the bed and scampered out the door. Crookshanks, however, looked mutinous, and Annabelle wouldn't leave if Crookshanks didn't.

Wolfe fixed Crookshanks with a penetrating stare. "Do you really want to test me, Crookshanks?"

Crookshanks averted his gaze, lazily got up, and made a show of stretching his legs before haughtily striding out of the room, slowing down momentarily to allow Annabelle to precede him. While in the doorway, he looked at Wolfe one more time, as if to make a point the he _could_ have stayed but hadn't wanted to, anyway.

"Out!" Wolfe barked, and some invisible force seemed to shove Crookshanks out the door. An angry yowl echoed through the corridor outside just as Harry came through the still-open door.

"What was that all about?"

"Crookshanks mistook me for Ron," Wolfe grumbled.

Harry smiled, no doubt having received additional information telepathically. He closed the door before turning to Aberforth. "You requested my presence?"

"Have a seat," Aberforth said, and waited for everyone for everyone to settle in before he continued. "Harry … eleven and a half years ago, my brother told you, in detail, about the magic in your mother's sacrifice, and its protective properties."

Harry nodded, and though he didn't show his anxiety, Ginny could feel it rise a notch.

Aberforth sighed, suddenly looking very old. "I find myself having to confess … that he wasn't entirely truthful."

X

* * *

**_Please read_**

**Author's Note: **Many of you correctly assumed that Wolfe hadn't died. Now I issue a challenge, namely, to speculate on what Aberforth's explanation for Wolfe's survival will be. Let us see how well you know how I think. :-) Anyone who reviews and submits their theory before closes for upgrades on the 17th, will get a chance to see the Chapter 11 **_and_** 12 early, by e-mail. So for those of you who don't have a account or don't have their e-mails listed, remember to type your e-mail correctly. Even if you have no idea at all what my twisted mind has cooked up to explain Wolfe's survival, I'd love to see your wild speculations. The wildest speculation will get Chapter 11 early, as a consolation prize.

I'll give you one hint … there is a clue in Wolfe's conversation with the mysterious figure. Oh, and before I forget: **Disclaimer: **The first section of this chapter, the one with the mysterious figure, was almost completely taken from an outside source, much like the Pulp Fiction conversation in Mind War. J. Michael Straczynski rules!

* * *

And now to the review answers: 

**NCDSbookworm**: Gudrun and the children will show up at some point. Don't worry.

**Gogirl**: Technically I didn't really pretend to kill him off this time. Read my answer to reviewer fan 1-9 to see what I mean.

**blah29**: I wasn't going to give up because of the reviews. I would have given up if the chapters I'd lost when my PC crashed had been beyond recovery.

**maaike-fluffy**: Ik weet wat je bedoelt met beschrijvingen, maar om een verhaal dynamisch te houden kun je dat niet al te vaak doen. Volgens mijn novel-writing guide hoeft niet elke kamer waar de personage nog nooit is geweest beschreven te worden, en hoeft de schrijver niet na elke zin de gelaat uitdrukking of houding van de personages te beschrijven. Maar misschien heb ik wat dat betreft iets teveel gecompenseerd en het _te_ karig gemaakt. Maar dat van de side-characters zie ik wel anders. Je kunt niet _iedereen_ een verleden geven, hoe interessant het ze ook maakt. Dat kost gewoon te veel tijd en pagina ruimte die beter besteed kan worden aan de plot en het constant houden van het ritme van het verhaal.

**Furioh**: Yeah, too bad about Ruskbyte.

**Big daddy**: Long time no see.

**Tigrin-Phoenix**: If you want to find out how Wolfe survived, give my challenge your best shot.

**Fan 1-9**: I deleted most of your reviews since what you did wasn't what I was trying to achieve. It isn't about the number of reviews. But I _did_ keep your review of chapter 2 around, since you made an interesting point in it.

You were absolutely right about what I did. I did drop hints that Wolfe might not survive, and I let your minds do the rest. ;-) I'm sure I would have had _everyone_ fooled if I hadn't pulled any similar stunts before.

**Tosca**: _Convenient_ that they had the Mind Reader enhancements? Why wouldn't Yamato have equipped his people to the best of his ability? He was trying to do maximum damage!

**Amara**: I suppose I was a bit desperate.

**Lady of Masbolle**: Glad you and the others didn't think the Gladiator thing was over the top.

**Saint Mike**: I see I didn't have you fooled. As for the explanation, if you take part in the challenge…

**Nya**: Thanks for taking the time to comment.

**Theef**: That's why I let the bad guys endanger Harry's family instead of Harry himself, because he can't be touched.

**battlefield-addict**: Sigh Okay, that was not the type of response I was looking for. But I suppose I'll never get more than a one-liner from you, will I?

**Lioness-07863**: I'm glad you liked it. I wasn't sure how to write three different Wolfes.

**Elric Magus**: Stay tuned.

**Jedibookworm13**: Well, the final scene _was_ supposed to convey Wolfe's panic, but not to such an extent that it would feel _rushed_ to the reader. I read it again, and it doesn't feel rushed to me. But that's where opinions always vary. Thanks for sharing it, though.

**mrsean**: Fortunately Wolfe survived, so I don't have to answer your questions.

**Lipton**: Thanks for giving your impressions on every chapter. That's very generous of you.

**nycgal**: Thanks.

**lluvatar**: I don't suppose you'll ever write more than UPDATE, will you?

**Fragarach**: Fair enough.

**Hootild**: Well, if he _had_ died, _I_ would have preferred it to be _this_ way.

**The Keymaker**: Did you find my reviews helpful?

**CatRx**: Thank you.

**Bluerain22**: You're welcome.

**Chloe Black**: He's not dead. Happy? ;-)

**gpbpandoc4**: Do me and the other people whose stories you're reading a favour, and stay delurked.

**Greasy ox**: It isn't about the number of reviews, but about the content. I deleted eight reviews because they didn't have any content, beings merely parts of sentences and serving to raise the number of reviews. But you're not the first to accuse me of peddling for reviews, and you probably won't be the last.

**Janus Aran**: Actually, no, he can't. Malfoy's duplicates were people he'd absorbed, with life-forces of their own. That's not the case with Wolfe's duplicates. They _are_ self-contained in a way that they simply wink out (and the original isn't affected) when they're hit by a powerful curse, but Wolfe can't pass on any damage he takes.

**Shalli**: They _did_ say 'strength and honour' in the movie, you know. Thanks for coming out of lurkerdom.


	11. Perfectly Good Explanations

Chapter 11

**Perfectly Good Explanations**

Aberforth's confession brought on a tense silence in which one could hear a pin drop.

It was brutally shattered after a few seconds by both Heidi and Ginny, as the two women so similar in appearance and mind erupted in an identical, indignant manner. _"What?"_

It would have been highly amusing, had Harry himself not been so preoccupied with Aberforth's admission.

"I'm sorry, but circumstances demanded that I should never reveal the information, unless some very specific circumstances occurred," Aberforth said. "However, there is a perfectly good explanation for Albus' silence, and now that the requirements have been met, I find myself in a position to reveal the whole truth. Consider it fate's early Christmas present."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Are you saying that I've been dodging Killing Curses for nothing all these years?"

"I think I know why my great-great grandfather kept it from you," Wolfe said slowly. Then he looked at Aberforth. "The reason the protection kicked in was because I took the curse for Heidi, right?"

Aberforth nodded. "Albus researched the spell and its effects, and found out that, in theory, the spell would protect its ward in the event that he or she displayed the same behaviour that is used to seal it—an act of sacrifice. So you see, Harry, Albus wasn't lying about the need to dodge harmful curses, for the spell's protection would only work in this very specific circumstance."

Harry shook his head. "Why didn't he tell me?"

"Remember what Merlin's memory taught you in the Mirror Realm," Wolfe said. "Innocence and ignorance often support the most powerful magic. It was true for unlocking your own inner power, and it applies in this case."

At first, Harry was baffled by Wolfe's statement, but then he remembered that he and Wolfe shared all their memories prior to their fusion into Phoenix. He'd never taken time to sift through Wolfe's memories, but evidently the reverse was not true. "Right … but how?"

"Had my great-great grandfather told you about it, he might have taken away the _key_. You see, sacrificing yourself isn't enough to activate the protective spell. You have to be willing to die for the person you're protecting, and more importantly, you have to be willing to die, period. And that's not possible if you're aware of the spell, for if you are, you'll expect the spell to save you—"

"And I'd die anyway," Harry finished, nodding. "Expecting to survive wouldn't make it a true act of sacrifice."

Aberforth gave Wolfe an odd look. "How did you know about the spell's specifics?"

"I _didn't_ know, until you mentioned the requirement of sacrifice. That's when it all made sense."

"When _what_ made sense?" Heidi asked.

Wolfe took a deep breath, and through their link, Harry could see him sorting his thoughts.

"The protective spell only worked halfway for me, initially," Wolfe began. "I was more than willing to die for you and our baby. But I wasn't so willing to let go of life, which is why my soul was held back in … well, I think it's some kind of dimension. That's where I met the consciousness of magic—the god of magic, if you will."

Heidi and Ginny drew simultaneous gasps.

"He talked about the certainty of death, and made me think about my sacrifice. And in doing so, he nudged me in the right direction. The things he said suddenly made sense when Aberforth mentioned the sacrifice condition. Harry's memories of Merlin served to make things even clearer."

"You spoke to the god of magic?" Ginny asked incredulously.

Wolfe smiled. "_He_ did most of the talking, but yes."

Heidi frowned. "The god of magic is a man?"

"I don't think so. He … _it_ … assumed Master Lei's form to make me feel more at ease. Whether or not it has a gender is anyone's guess."

"So Albus Dumbledore intended to keep Harry ignorant of the spell's precise properties, so the spell might do its work one more time, under the right circumstances, correct?" Nicolai asked.

Aberforth sighed. "That _was_ Albus' intention. Having taken a possible premature demise into account, he left me a letter with the true information about the spell, and, in the unlikely event that it would ever be triggered again, instructions on how to proceed—namely, to tell you about it. I'm afraid that, with this knowledge, you no longer enjoy the spell's protection. But leaving you with the misconception that you were immune to the Killing Curse was not an option either."

"I understand," Harry said. "It doesn't really change anything."

"In theory, you're still protected," Nicolai suggested.

"True, but what are the odds that Harry and I could completely clear our minds of the expectation of surviving, if we ever found ourselves in a similar situation again?" Wolfe asked.

Nicolai shrugged. "Very slim … I know. But Aberforth said that you no longer had the spell's protection, and that's not true, strictly speaking."

"Practice and theory are very different, little cousin."

Harry nodded in support of Wolfe's statement.

"Aberforth, you're very old, and there's no telling how long you'll be around," Heidi began. "Not that it matters anymore, but did you plan for the eventuality that what occurred today might occur after your death?"

"Of course. I made arrangements for the knowledge to be passed to Nicolai, in that event. And what do you mean I'm _old_? You speak as if I have one foot in the grave already."

"Seven years ago you _did_ say that you had another fifteen years left," Ginny reminded Aberforth.

Wolfe looked puzzled. "When was that?"

"You were in Azkaban,"" Harry explained.

Wolfe shuddered. "Right."

"So that means that you've got about eight years left," Ginny continued. "I don't mean to sound negative, but that's hardly all the time in the world."

"Be that as it may, I'll enjoy my remaining time to the fullest. Why, I intend to get married this spring! I proposed to Louise yesterday, and she said yes."

Heidi gasped. "Louise Iserin?"

The parts of Aberforth's cheeks that weren't covered by his grizzled beard turned pink as he nodded.

"No … really?" Ginny asked, wearing a stunned look that mirrored Heidi's. Apparently she knew who this Louise was.

Wolfe frowned. "Who?"

"The can collecting lady," Nicolai said, grinning broadly.

Heidi and Ginny simultaneously emitted delighted squeals.

Harry shook his head. It was a bit awkward to see how in tune his wife had grown with Heidi over the last few years. Ginny, whom he knew was able to feel his moods very clearly when he was close by, gave him a playful shrug and formed a thought in her mind for him to read.

He smiled, guessing that she might have a point. In her thought, Ginny had suggested that, in her absence, it might have been more than just physical similarities that had drawn him to Heidi. And even though Heidi's bearing had been much more aristocratic and reserved eight years ago, in hindsight, Harry had to admit that at times, her bearing had still been very much like Ginny's.

"How did it happen?" Heidi asked eagerly.

"I ran into her last month, when she was on her way to deliver the empty cans to the dwarven forges. She remembered me from Harry and Ginny's wedding, and that the garter fell around the tip of my hat. We started talking, and I walked with her to the forges. Afterwards, she invited me for tea, and one thing led to another."

"She caught the bouquet, didn't she?" Wolfe said.

Aberforth nodded in affirmation.

Heidi eyes gleamed. "Oh, that's—"

"So romantic!" Ginny completed Heidi's sentence, after which both witches began to giggle girlishly.

"Why would you want to marry at your age, Aberforth?" Wolfe asked.

"I've never been married before, so I thought I'd give it a go—and she makes me feel young again," Aberforth said fondly.

Harry blinked. "How young could she possibly make you feel? She's over a hundred herself."

"Harry!" Ginny punched him in the upper arm admonishingly.

"She's a hundred and seven," Aberforth informed them.

"You're a hundred and sixty-three—old enough to be her grandfather," Wolfe pointed out, earning a punch in the upper arm from Heidi.

She rubbed her hand afterwards, seeming to have hurt her hand more on Wolfe's muscles than her hand having hurt Wolfe.

Wolfe rolled his eyes, yet he took her hand and caressed her fingers affectionately. "Could you and Ginny stop behaving like twins? You're upsetting Harry."

A tinge of worry appeared in Heidi's eyes. "Am I really?"

Harry shot Wolfe an exasperated look. "I'm _not_ upset because they're behaving like twins, but because they're behaving like ditzes."

Ginny made to punch Harry again, but this time he was ready.

He easily caught her fist, brought it up to his lips and kissed it. Then he turned to Heidi. "The similarities between you and Ginny just caught me off guard for a moment."

Heidi giggled. "Ginny and I could say the same thing—"

"About you and Wolfe," Ginny finished, and stuck her tongue out at Harry.

"We don't look alike," Wolfe protested.

"No, but you act and react in very similar ways."

Wolfe's expression darkened. "I wish that were true."

Enough of Wolfe's thoughts slipped through his mind's barrier to let Harry know what he was thinking about.

"To be honest, I think I was far too preachy after Galatea was killed. If it had been Ginny, I would have done the same thing. In fact, I might have done much worse, and I'm not saying this just to make you feel better."

He opened his mind to allow Wolfe to see that, but Wolfe didn't bother. He just nodded gratefully, and the relief was evident in is eyes. "Thanks, kid."

Heidi and Ginny giggled again, and Harry snorted. "Would you stop calling me that?"

"Albus called me Ickle Abe until I was a hundred and twenty-five," Aberforth said.

"Well, _Ickle Abe_, don't you think a month is too short a time to get to know someone well enough to marry?" Wolfe asked.

"As your wife has already pointed out, I hardly have all the time in the world. Every minute is precious, and, from that perspective, a month is like an eternity."

"Then let me be the first to congratulate you," Wolfe said, sticking out his hand.

Aberforth rose from his chair, walked over to the bed and shook Wolfe's hand. Heidi then kissed him on the cheek, and Ginny, Nicolai, and Harry, respectively, followed with their own congratulations.

"So what kind of a wedding are you going to have?" Harry asked, after having released Aberforth from a backslapping hug.

"Louise was thinking about a Muggle wedding in Las Vegas."

Harry laughed. "You won't be able to marry under your proper identities. Louise is a hundred and seven, and you're a hundred and sixty-three. Very few Muggles live to reach her age, and none have reached yours."

Aberforth looked a bit put out. "That didn't occur to me. I'll have to explain that to her."

"Can't they change their ages on the identification papers?" Ginny asked.

"They could, but then the marriage wouldn't be legal," Heidi explained. "Wizards may get married the Muggle way, and all local governments of magic issue necessary documents that will hold up to Muggle scrutiny, which allow the wizarding couple to get married. However, for _marriage purposes_, there is a provision that states that all the information contained within the documents must be real. Also, the Muggle official must be aware of it, so you can't cast a Confundus Charm on the documents that would cause the Muggle official to overlook the odd details. That's why wizards living in typical wizarding residences that aren't listed in the Muggle world can't have Muggle weddings. Oh, but it _is _allowed to cast a Memory Charm on the official, afterwards."

Ginny frowned. "That doesn't make sense."

"Actually, it does. The jumble of contradictory rules serves as way to discourage Muggle weddings and to promote wizarding ones," Nicolai said, as he lowered himself back into his chair.

Ginny scowled. "I see."

The discussion was interrupted as someone knocked on the door.

"Who is it?" Wolfe called.

"It's Mary," Mary's hesitant voice replied. "Are you done with your secret meeting?"

"We're done. You can come in."

The door opened a bit, and Mary's head poked through the aperture. She looked at her boyfriend. "I need to go to the House of Healing for my pre-natal care appointment. Want to come with me with me? Since you're not in the Mirror Realm, I thought I'd ask."

"Of course I'll come with you," Nicolai said, and practically leapt out of his chair.

An astonished look crossed Mary's features. "But aren't you too busy? I mean, shouldn't you be fixing the Umbral Gate so it can be opened? The people who're waiting for you on the other side must be getting worried that it hasn't opened yet, and they might panic if they try to open it from their side without any result."

Harry felt a wave of surprise emanating from Nicolai, in response to Mary's remark, but also pride because of Mary's mature insight into the situation. Not so long ago, Mary wouldn't have been so understanding.

"Don't worry about it, _bella_. I told them to expect a possible shutdown of the gate," Nicolai answered as he crossed the distance to the door. Mary opened the door further to allow him through.

"How far along are you, Mary?" Wolfe asked.

Mary blushed. "Twenty-five and a half weeks."

"I don't think I'll see you soon, so Merry Christmas!" Nicolai said from the doorway. "I _do_ have to fix the gate after Mary's check-up, and the coronation will probably proceed immediately upon my arrival in Shamballah. I'm sure I'll be back by New Year's Eve, though."

"Happy Christmas to you too, Your Majesty," Harry said.

"That's _Imperial_ Majesty, Harry," Nicolai replied crisply, then winked. Then he waved goodbye, and Ginny, Heidi, Aberforth and Wolfe waved back, saying goodbye and wishing him a merry Christmas too.

"Mary's already twenty-five weeks along." Heidi sighed. "It seems like only yesterday that Matt tried to hex Nicolai."

"How did it happen?" Wolfe asked. "Nicolai doesn't strike me as the type that gets a girl in trouble."

Ginny laughed out loud and retold the story of how Mary had ended up pregnant due to the effects of Doxy anti-venom on male part-Greater-Incubi. Wolfe smiled when Ginny likened Mary's offer to watch over the recovering Nicolai to a wolf offering to watch over sheep.

"Do you think _you'd_ have the same reaction the Doxy anti-venom?" Harry asked Wolfe after Ginny was done.

"I'm not sure. Nicolai is one-quarter incubus, and I'm only one-eighth." He shot Ginny and Heidi a mischievous grin. "Unlike Nicolai, I never made a woman rush out of the room to take a cold shower because of the effects of pheromones."

Ginny and Heidi blushed profusely, but instead of averting their eyes in embarrassment, the women punched Wolfe in the arms in retaliation.

Wolfe chuckled. "What? Couldn't two such witty ladies come up with an appropriate rejoinder?"

"Unfortunately both you and Harry are remarkably resistant to Veela, so we couldn't throw that in your face. But we _will_ get you for this," Heidi said with determination.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Seriously, it sounds like a descendant who is less than one-quarter Greater Incubus or Veela loses most of the powers. Vesta Gaal is one-eighth Veela, and though she has the looks, she clearly doesn't have the powers."

"I do have one _diminished_ incubus ability," Wolfe said. "Nicolai and my grandfather can tell if a women is ovulating if they see her and are close enough to smell her. I can't smell it—despite the enhanced sense of smell I got from the pendants—but I can _taste_ it when I kiss a woman."

"Really? How does it work?" Heidi asked.

"A woman's saliva is slightly saltier when she's ovulating," Ginny said.

Wolfe nodded. "That was Galatea's explanation, too. We were trying to conceive Henry when I noticed that kissing her felt different than it did otherwise, but I couldn't put my finger on exactly _how_. At first we ascribed it to the passion of the moment, but later we realised that I was able to tell when the time was right. It made it more difficult to control my more primal urges, and it seemed to affect Galatea too. She said that she had a hard time thinking coherently, that it became very hard to resist me, and that that her legs turned to jelly every time I kissed her, probably because my saliva glands secrete a diluted form of the incubus pheromone."

Heidi scowled. "Couldn't you have told me about this sooner? I felt so awkward this morning, for throwing myself at you after last night's first kiss." She snorted. "_Now_ he tells me—_after_ I've felt like a slut for the better part of the day."

Ginny and Harry laughed, and Ginny pulled Harry towards the door. "Come on, let's call England and make sure that everyone's all right."

"How bad was it in Diagon Alley?" Wolfe asked. He looked really troubled, and Harry could feel that the deaths in England weighed heavily on his mind.

"The final toll was eleven deaths, and fifty-six wounded. But estimates are that the Order's presence, and quick response were directly responsible for the survival of twenty-seven of the wounded. Coupled with the Order's early discovery and deactivation of the bombs in _Quality Quidditch Supplies _and _Gambol and Japes_, that's a lot of lives saved because of your warning," Ginny said.

Harry nodded. "Those were the busiest shops."

"Not to mention the lives you saved by stopping Yamato's golem army before it reached Concordia," Heidi said.

Wolfe groaned. "The trolls, I forgot all about them. I need to talk to them—they don't know what to do without me."

He started to get up, but Heidi pushed him back into the pillows, leaning in with all her weight to accomplish the task. "You have to rest."

"I feel fine," Wolfe said, grabbing Heidi and easily lifting her off him. "This can't wait. Where are my clothes?"

"What's the rush?" Ginny asked.

"They're my responsibility, and I can't let any harm come to them. They're not evil, you know. Their past actions are due to evil leadership." He turned to Harry. "You'll need to come too. This concerns you as well."

Harry linked his mind to Wolfe's to gain the necessary information, and groaned when he learned that Wolfe had designated him as the new leader in Wolfe's absence.

"Ginny, you'd better go ahead and call the family by yourself. This may take a while."

* * *

X

* * *

_Hark how the bells_

_Sweet silver bells _

_All seem to say_

_Throw cares away_

_Christmas is here_

_Bringing good cheer_

_To young and old_

_Meek and the bold_…

The crowd gathered at the Artists' Square on the city's fourth tier listened intently as Heidi directed the Concordian Children's Choir through the final song of their repertoire of Christmas carols sung in various languages. It was a beautiful sight, with all the children holding candles and luminous fairies hovering over their heads. Many of the dignitaries who had come for the Umbral Gate's opening—which had been rescheduled to Boxing Day—were present, and Wolfe witnessed the proceedings disguised as Matt Kelly, knowing that his normal appearance would cause a stir and draw the attention away from the children. But Matt Kelly's presence wouldn't raise any suspicions, since he was the choir's main sponsor.

The choir had originally consisted of a small group of underprivileged children from Red One, but as it gradually gained fame, parents from the middle and upper classes also began to encourage their children to take part in the choir. Now there were about fifty children in the choir, ranging from ages six to eleven. Rachel Kelly and Rose Weasley were among the children who had recently joined, and they now stood side by side at the front of the group.

_Ding, dong, ding, dong_

_That is their song_

_With joyful ring_

_All caroling_

_One seems to hear_

_Words of good cheer_

_From ev'rywhere_

_Filling the air_

"All right, Matt?" Harry said, sitting down next to him. "Beautiful, isn't it?"

Wolfe nodded slowly. "Why isn't Robert in the choir?"

"It isn't his thing. He's more enthusiastic about martial arts. Henry can't wait until he's old enough to join, though. Heidi says he's very musical."

Wolfe smiled, and they continued to listen to the singing to the song until it ended, applauding the children with the rest of the crowd.

"Are the trolls settled in?" he asked quietly after the applause.

They'd had a long discussion with the Concordian Combine about the fate of the Dark Trolls, the day before. Wolfe wanted the trolls to remain in Concordia, where Harry could influence them more easily, and help them develop a more civilised society. In the end, they had managed to convince the Lord Mayor and some key councillors that the trolls could be controlled, and permission for a temporary stay had been granted to the trolls who had fought. However, Wolfe had learned that there were also about three hundred Dark Troll elders and young spread out over the world, and no matter how hard he'd tried to get them a home on Nomad Island, he hadn't had much success.

Wolfe _did_ understand the Combine's concerns. It was uncertain whether Nomad Island's natural ecosystem and agricultural production could support three hundred and fifty Dark Trolls, even though they were considerably smaller than traditional Mountain, River or Forest Trolls, with males averaging at nine feet in height and females being a foot shorter.

"They're camped out at Matt's farmstead. They wanted a feast to celebrate their fallen comrades' glorious departure into the next dimension, but I convinced them to postpone it until the supplies are more plentiful."

"I'll pay them a visit tomorrow, before I leave," Wolfe said, as he rose from the bench they'd been sitting on.

"Are you leaving so soon?"

"I can't let Yamato get too much of a head start. I really wish I could stay longer, but I've got to save Westley," Wolfe answered, realising the irony of the situation. He'd been given a second chance at life _because_ he'd been willing to give Westley up, but now he was going to chase Yamato again.

He made his way through the mass of people towards where Heidi and the kids were. A surge of unpleasant heat passed through him as he noticed several men with predatory intentions standing around her, trying to get her attention. He increased his pace, knowing that he needed to get Heidi away from—

"Careful," Harry mumbled. "How would it look if Matt Kelly went into a jealous rage over a woman who isn't his wife?"

Wolfe stopping in his tracks, cursing inwardly. He'd forgotten that he was Matt. He took a deep breath and resumed walking, though he was careful to maintain a leisurely pace.

"If seeing her surrounded by men bothers you, how can you possibly be thinking about leaving?" Harry continued in subdued tones.

"Shut up," Wolfe grumbled.

"Look at her … she's glowing! Men are drawn to her like moths to a flame."

"If they get too close, _I'll_ burn them."

"Really? And how will you do that, if you're not around?" Harry chuckled. "Relax, she's totally devoted to you. She'll wait forever for you to return, though she shouldn't have to."

"Blame it on Yamato," Wolfe grumbled.

"Daddy!" Rachel Kelly squealed as she came running up to him, arms outstretched. Unsure of what to do, he picked her up and twirled her around. "Did you like the singing?"

"It was beautiful," Wolfe replied, feeling slightly uncomfortable.

Rachel looked at his expectantly, as if she were expecting him to say more. He decided to peek into her mind to get some answers, and saw that she wanted to get her ego stroked more thoroughly.

He leaned in closer and whispered into her ear. "You were better than all the other kids. I thought I was hearing an angel." Then he pulled back, and her beaming face told him that it had done the trick. He set her down, and she immediately scampered over to Rose.

"My daddy said that I was the best!"

Rose scowled. "He only says because he's your daddy."

"Does not!"

"Does too!"

"Does not!"

"Does too!"

"Does not!"

Wolfe groaned, berating himself for not having chosen his words more carefully.

Harry came alongside him and clapped him on the shoulder. "You did a fair impersonation of Matt—he would've said that too. Don't worry about the girls. They may be rivals, but they're also best friends. It won't escalate."

"Aunt Heidi …who was better, me or Rachel?" Rose's petulant voice sounded.

Harry grinned sheepishly. "Okay … maybe it will."

"Looks like it."

"There you are!" Ginny appeared from a cluster of witches who'd been discussing the musical talents of their offspring. She linked one arm through Harry's and the other through Wolfe's. "Come on, let's round up the children and go to the party."

Wolfe grimaced. He wasn't really in a hurry to go to the party at the Kellys', because he hadn't worked out how to evade Gudrun yet. He'd left a duplicate of himself in Snidget form to act as a sentinel, and the duplicate had witnessed how a tipsy Gudrun in a very skimpy Mother Christmas outfit was cornering some male guests for a kiss under mistletoe, claiming it to be her right as the hostess. The ceiling around the front door, where the guests were expected to come in—was covered in mistletoe sprigs. He could take a side door, but he didn't want to seem impolite.

Harry laughed softly, and asked out loud. "She's really doing that?"

"Who is doing what?" Ginny whispered.

"Gudrun … cornering blokes under mistletoe at the party," Harry said.

Ginny giggled. "I'm not surprised. She's always been a bit promiscuous."

"She just gave Rolf a lengthy smooch. Vesta Gaal wasn't pleased."

"Rolf brought Vesta as a date?" Ginny asked incredulously.

Harry shrugged. "You've got to hand it to him, he's persistent."

"Even if Vesta _does_ end up marrying him, it hardly seems worth it."

"Maybe she's really good in the sack," Harry offered, and promptly had to dodge a playful blow from Ginny.

"Mind your words, Potter. There are lots of children about, your own included," Ginny said, before setting off towards the spot where Heidi and the children were standing.

After the group was complete, they headed to the nearest portal, which took them to their quadrant on the third tier. The surface of the party tent that had been set up in the courtyard that afternoon was now twinkling with thousand of magical lights, and drew attention from many passers by and overhead traffic. The amount of attention on the place made Wolfe feel slightly uneasy, even though he knew that many friendly eyes were watching over it.

"Ready for your snog?" Harry whispered, so that Jasmine, Heidi, and Ginny, who were walking up front with the children, wouldn't hear.

"I don't intend to be kissed by Gudrun."

"She's wanted to snog you ever since she laid eyes on you. Being married hasn't done anything to take that desire away. You might have to hex her if you really want to avoid being snogged. But really, what's the big deal? Matt always goes on about how good a kisser she is. Why not just let her kiss you and be done with it? To everyone else, it'll look like she's kissing her husband."

"I'm sure she'll want to kiss you too," Wolfe grumbled.

"She'll have a hard time holding on to me," Harry said smugly. "I can do my ghost thing, remember?"

Wolfe smiled as a brilliant idea lit up in his mind. "You just gave me an idea. I can use the pendants' powers too."

"Hey, it's not fair if you go in as an Animagus or shrink yourself so she doesn't see you. The challenge is to walk through the front door in plan view of her."

"Which is why I'll use a decoy." Wolfe said, as he made a mental link with his duplicate, which was sitting on the wreath that hung un the door. Moments later, the spot of gold turned into a human being that was an exact outward copy of Wolfe.

"Hey Dad," Robert, who was also ignorant about his father's disguise, said, before he went inside ahead of the others, flanked by his cousin Rose, and Rachel Kelly. Then Jasmine and Charlie Jr. brushed past the duplicate to go inside. Heidi turned around and shot him a sly wink, before she took Henry's hand and proceeded through the door, behind the duplicate. Wolfe followed quickly, and once inside he saw Gudrun step in front of the duplicate immediately, and throw her arms around him. She was so preoccupied that she didn't noticed the real Wolfe, who still looked like her husband, enter the house too.

"So, the Polyjuice has worn off? Well, it'll be more interesting," Gudrun said, giving the duplicate a sultry look as she leaned into him.

"What will be?" the duplicate asked, playing along.

"Haven't you heard? As hostess I can choose to kiss our male guests under mistletoe."

"Then it's too bad that I'm not the real guest," the duplicate said, before dissolving into thin air.

Gudrun yelped in surprise as she lost her balance, and barely managed to stop herself from falling face-first on the floor.

"Where'd he go? That wasn't the real one?"

Heidi couldn't answer because she was doubled over with laughter.

Harry used Gudrun's distraction to slip past the mistletoe cordon unnoticed.

"Isn't he coming?" Gudrun asked after a minute.

"He's already here," Ginny—who was standing in the doorway with her children—corrected, nodding towards Wolfe.

Gudrun huffed. "Well, that's just great. Now I'll have to resort to chasing you around with a sprig of mistletoe!"

"It's a-all r-right M-Max," Heidi said, halfway recovered from her laughter. "I don't mind. Let Gudrun get it out of her system."

"You sure?" Wolfe asked uneasily.

"Yes, Max!" Heidi said exasperatedly.

Gudrun threw her arm open invitingly and puckered her lips.

Wolfe reluctantly strode up to her and grabbed Gudrun's open arms to prevent her from locking him into a hug. Then he gave her the quickest of pecks on the lips before he pulled back. "There!"

Gudrun pouted. "You call that a kiss? I need at least three seconds of lip contact!"

"Be grateful, because that's all you're getting," Heidi said.

"If that reflects his bedroom behaviour, you have my condolences," Gudrun retorted playfully.

"Don't worry, it doesn't!"

Wolfe felt his face heat up. Unlike Matt Kelly, he wasn't comfortable with the knowledge that many women gossiped and fantasised about him, and he had no desire to be the subject of the women's lascivious discussion. "Heidi…"

"I told you I'd get you for the way you brought up Nicolai's influence on me, yesterday," Heidi said sweetly.

Gudrun laughed. "You're still embarrassed about that? I got over it ages ago. And really, Heidi, if there's anyone who ought to be embarrassed it's _me_. I was nearly four months _pregnant_ at the time, and the boy still forced me to run off and change my panties every time he spent more than thirty seconds in my vicinity. How do you think I felt about lusting after the same boy my daughter was head over heels for?"

Wolfe left the two women to their discussion and escaped up the stairs, where his own clothes were waiting for him in a guestroom. He checked his watch and saw that the Polyjuice Potion's effect would run out any time now.

Wolfe heard footsteps coming up the stairs, and the scent of sweet perfume announced its female wearer. He turned around and saw Vesta Gaal, holding a sprig of mistletoe in her hand.

"Ah. I've been looking for you, Matthew Kelly!" she said seductively.

She closed the distance too quickly for Wolfe to say anything, and his intended explanation was restrained in his mouth by her invading tongue. His sapience deserted him as soon as he tasted her, and instead of pushing her away he pulled her closer, pinning her against him and holding her upright, for her legs didn't seem to carry her own weight. After an indeterminate amount of time, however, his iron will cut a path through the thick jungle of his incubus instincts, and he wrenched his mouth away from hers.

Vesta moaned in protest, and her mouth desperately sought Wolfe's again, but he reached up and cupped her face, tilting it back to prevent her from closing the distance

Vesta sighed, her eyes still closed. "Oh, what a heavenly kisser," she murmured dreamily.

A sound, very much like something an angry cat would make, followed Vesta's remark.

Though the sound had been foreign, Wolfe was fairly certain that he recognised the throat that had emitted it, and he slowly turned his head in the direction from which the sound had come, hoping against hope that he was somehow mistaken. But it was not be. He saw a furious looking Heidi, her arms trembling and her fists balled.

Gudrun was standing behind Heidi, looking scandalised. "First you're all anal about kissing me, and not even a minute later you snog another woman senseless."

Wolfe no longer felt Matt's long hair on the back of his neck, and he realised that he'd changed back to normal while kissing Vesta, and that Heidi had probably seen him kissing like that. "Heidi, you've got to believe me, there's a perfectly good explanation for this!"

* * *

X

* * *

**Author's Note:** So, how did you ladies and gentlemen like the technicality I conjured up to allow Wolfe to survive the Killing Curse?

Many of you were right in saying that when Wolfe and Harry merged into Phoenix, Wolfe also got Harry's special protection. But Lipton's guess was amazingly accurate. Consolation prizes for craziest theories went to:

1) Elric Magus, whose crazy theory won on the brilliance of its simplicity.

2) Chloe Black, whose first sentence of her theory wasn't really crazy, but caught the essence of my reasoning very well.

3) Joey 1, for trying so very hard to type a hilarious theory.

4) Foxfur …I was going to send you Chapter 11 for suggesting that it was because of a power the baby had. :-) But I kind of forgot whether I sent it or not. Did I?

That's all for this chapter, folks. I'll resume my review answering in the next one. And remember, if you have any comments, **review**. About what, you ask? Well, maybe you don't agree with the twist I added to J.K. Rowling's 'exception for surviving the Killing Curse'. Or maybe you think it's brilliant. Either way, I'd really like to know.


	12. Contemplations on the Past

Chapter 12

**Contemplations on the Past**

****

"It's awfully cold," Ron muttered, though Wolfe's hearing allowed him to catch Ron's words as if he'd been standing next to him. "Cast another Warming Charm for us, Hermione. Bloody hell, why couldn't he have done this in the Citadel's maintenance bay, where it's nice and warm?"

Ron and Hermione had slipped away from their family visit to be present at Wolfe's departure, leaving their children in the care of their formidable grandmother.

Ron's muttering had prompted a smile from Wolfe. It _was_ a valid question, with several answers. He'd wanted to be away from the other Rangers' prying eyes, and he'd wanted some time to meditate near the lake, adding the final touches to his mental preparation.

"Ready?" Harry called, turning away from the dark, partially frozen waters of Lake Michigan to face Wolfe. The icy winds didn't ruffle his clothing, and his nose and ears didn't show any signs of exposure to the cold, telling Wolfe that Harry had rendered himself intangible. It was a creative way to escape the wind chill.

Wolfe nodded as he looked at Harry and Ron, who were standing side by side. He experienced a brief moment of envy at their unique bond. It could have turned out differently if his great-great grandfather and the Ranger Prime hadn't forbidden Lei Li to take Harry in and train him early. Had that been the case, he and Harry would have grown up like brothers.

"What are you thinking about?" Heidi asked in a whisper, leaning closer into him.

Wolfe gazed down on Heidi's sad face. Her cheeks were a deep pink, decorated with some frozen tears. Fortunately he'd managed to smooth things over with her the previous evening, for Vesta's reaction upon discovering that he wasn't Matt had gone a long way towards calming Heidi. _Un_fortunately, Vesta hadn't been upset at all about kissing the wrong guy, and she'd spent the whole evening trying to get him alone for an encore, completely ignoring her date. Needless to say, that hadn't exactly got her on Heidi's good side.

Explaining why he hadn't immediately broken the kiss had also been difficult and awkward, and it had been a good thing that they'd discussed the subject of his incubus heritage the day before the incident. Heidi had been able to interpret his stammered explanation fairly quickly, sparing them both a lot of discomfort.

"I was thinking about the past, and how things could have been different," he said, before leaning down and planting a lingering kiss on her frigid lips. The contact quickly warmed both their lips, and at her insistence they deepened the kiss, finally pouring everything he had into it, aware of the possibility that he might never see her again. Finally, he reluctantly broke the kiss and stared into her eyes. "I love you."

Her eyes filled with tears once more, and she uttered something halfway between a sob and a chuckle. "You've waited an awfully long time to tell me that, but I suppose that makes you who you are."

"Huh?"

"Don't get me wrong, I already knew—you've _shown_ that you loved me by jumping in front of that Killing Curse, but you never _said_ it."

"But if my actions made my feelings clear, why is saying it such a big deal?"

"Honestly, Max, you're even thicker than Ron!" Hermione said exasperatedly. She, Ron, and Harry must have come closer while he and Heidi had been immersed in their kiss. "I suppose actions _do_ matter more than words, but a woman still needs to _hear_ the words every now and then."

Ron grinned, and threw his arm across his wife's shoulders and pulling her into a hug. "Don't be so hard on him, Hermione. He can't help being a man of action. Besides, he didn't have the benefit of your nagging when he was a kid."

Hermione scowled. "I'm sure he would've caught on much more quickly than you."

"So I'm thick." Ron shrugged. "It does have its advantages."

"Oh really? Name one!"

"I never lost my head over an eleven-year-old part-Veela girl. My thickness must've insulated me."

"You _never met_ an eleven-year-old Veela-girl."

"That's not the point—"

"Don't you dare drag Nicolai into this."

"Who said anything about Nicolai?" Ron smirked, crossing his arms and giving Hermione an expectant look.

"You _were_ going to bring it up."

"You don't know that for sure. Funny though, how you immediately connected Nicolai to the age of eleven."

"I … damn!" Hermione's mouth snapped shut as she realised that she'd blindly tumbled into Ron's trap by taking the bait.

Wolfe smirked. Apparently Ron still grabbed every chance he got to remind Hermione of her reaction to Nicolai's pheromones, a little over four years ago.

"Ron playing mind games with Hermione? That's a first! What _is_ the world coming to?" He chuckled. "Too bad I won't be around to see more of this…" He fell silent for a few seconds, and his smirk was replaced by a solemn look. "Ron, Harry, in a few years my boys might get some questions that are far too awkward for them to ask Heidi. They'll need a father figure sometimes, and I'd be very grateful if you cover for me, when you have time."

Ron nodded. "It'll be my pleasure. We'll _make_ the time, if we have to."

"It'll be good practice, in case Ron and I ever have a son," Hermione commented.

"Same thing goes for me and Ginny—well, minus the son part, since we've already got one," Harry added with a subdued smile.

"Thanks," Wolfe said, while he reluctantly pried Heidi's arms off his waist. Now that the time had come, leaving was more difficult than he'd imagined. If Yamato hadn't taken his son, he didn't know whether he'd have had the resolve to go through with it. No, he _would_ have gone through with it. He'd have remembered that leaving Yamato as a loose end had got Galatea and her parents killed.

Harry's smile widened. "Oh, and your transportation is here—it's Ginny," he said, as he turned around and scanned the sky around them, finally fixing his gaze on an empty spot of sky.

That explained why Harry had been aware of the _Prowler's_ approach even before he'd seen it. For the second time in that brief moment, Wolfe envied Harry—who was unaware of his own goofy smile at the anticipation of seeing with his wife—for being able to remain behind with her and the children. He silently cursed Yamato for preventing him from experiencing the same domestic bliss.

Suddenly, just like Harry's magically enhanced eyesight had enabled him to see through the _Prowler's_ invisibility, Wolfe's enhanced hearing picked up the faint tell-tale whistle caused by the craft's quick displacement of air, which the Silencing Charm couldn't completely cover. A few seconds later the _Prowler_ turned visible and landed two dozen yards or so away from them. The bubble cockpit retracted and Ginny reached for something on the back seat, tucking it under her cloak before she climbed out.

Surprisingly, she was wearing normal winter clothing instead of her Ranger uniform, and she was wearing the cloak Heidi had given her for Christmas, at a late exchange of gifts the previous evening, after Matt and Gudrun's Christmas party. Except for the slightly smaller size, it was identical to the one Heidi was wearing right now, the one that Ginny had given _her_ the previous evening. The exchange of identical gifts had been a source of great hilarity.

Ginny strode over to Wolfe and came to a stop at an arm's length. She pulled her cloak aside and brandished the Phoenix Clan Katana he'd inherited from Master Lei, but which he'd given to Harry. "I thought you should take this with you, and Gudrun and I also stocked the _Prowler_ with an assortments of goodies that might come in handy in the Mirror Realm."

Wolfe was speechless. He honestly didn't know what to say, for he'd given the sword to Harry as a gift and he'd certainly never expected to have it back.

Harry merely shrugged as Wolfe glanced at him, hoping to get an explanation. "So thank her! It'll be a big help to you."

"But—"

"I never use it anymore," Harry interrupted him. Besides, I'm sure the sword will enjoy hunting down a man who has stained the Japanese Wizarding Empire's honour."

Wolfe reached forward, tentatively grasping the scabbard, which immediately channelled the sword's warmth as the blade inside recognised Wolfe's touch. He knew that it had a strange sort of sentience as well as an empathic means of communication, and he had a feeling that it heartily concurred with Harry's assessment.

"Thank you, Ginny," Wolfe said, doing his best to keep his voice from wavering and his eyes from misting up as he looked at the people who had grown to become his best friends. Each of them had, at one time or another, been there to set him straight about something, and Harry and Ginny had each saved his life.

"Thank me by finding Yamato quickly so you can come back." She lunged forward and engulfed him in a tight hug, stood on the tips of her toes, and kissed him on the cheek before relinquishing him from the hug. Then she reached into the inside pocket of her cloak and produced a long, sparkling white feather. "It's one of my own—I plucked it earlier. For luck!"

Wolfe accepted the feather and tucked it away. Then Hermione came forward and also gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek, making him feel slightly uncomfortable. Ron and Harry hung back with amused expressions on their faces.

"Would you be terribly disappointed if _I_ don't hug and kiss you?" Ron asked.

"Make that _we_," Harry added.

Wolfe chuckled. "Not at all."

Ron nodded. "I'm glad we all agree on that one. Good luck, Wolfe."

"Good hunting!" Harry said seriously. "And try to send status reports to Shamballah from time to time, all right?"

Wolfe nodded, before turning on his heel and striding towards the _Prowler_.

* * *

x

* * *

"I wish I could've gone with him," Harry muttered wistfully, while he stared at the lake's surface. 

"Why didn't you?" Ginny whispered back, finally voicing a thought she'd been harbouring in the back of her mind.

"I knew you'd noticed! But … would you have let me go?" Harry asked, looking incredulous.

Ginny nodded. "I can feel the influence Wolfe's quest exerts on you. I know this will sound very Trelawney-like, but at times it almost seems like you two were meant to grow up like brothers, and that same bond added to the your urge to join him. I wouldn't have stopped you."

"I wouldn't have met Ron and Hermione if I'd grown up with Wolfe."

"I think Professor Dumbledore would have insisted that you receive your magical training at Hogwarts—" Ginny ended her sentence abruptly as another thought occurred to her. "Although … you might be right about meeting Ron and Hermione. If the stories I heard are true, growing up under Lei Li's influence probably would have got you Sorted into Slytherin," she amended with a chuckle. "Anyway, it's pointless to speculate about these things. What I meant to say was that he would've made a good surrogate brother for you."

"Don't sell your family short. They've been a great surrogate family, too."

Ginny shook her head. "Ron's your best mate, and he was like a best mate to you—not a brother. Mum's been sort of a surrogate mum to you, but the rest of us were definitely in the friends category."

"Speaking of your mum, she was also part of the reason I stayed. Imagine the talking-to she'd give me upon my return, if I'd gone with Wolfe. Her yelling would have induced deafness that even Draconian magic wouldn't have fixed." He winked. "Seriously—you, Richie and Holly far outweighed any satisfaction I could've obtained by joining Wolfe. Maybe I would have gone, if I'd known in advance that tracking Yamato down would only take a couple of months at most—but I didn't have that certainty, and I didn't want to risk being away from my family for too long." He opened his arms in invitation, and Ginny stepped into his embrace.

She sighed with contentment. "I'm glad to hear that."

"So, why did you come? Wasn't someone else supposed to fly the _Prowler_ here?"

"Yes, but I wanted to say goodbye to Wolfe myself, and be here to support Heidi after he left. Then there's the katana. It's a weapon of good, and I thought it would make an excellent moral compass that could help keep Wolfe on the right path."

"Yeah, I bet the sword will give him a jolt if too many innocent people are at risk. That was a good idea. I can't believe I didn't think of it myself."

Ginny pulled back and looked Harry in the eyes. "I wouldn't be much of a wife if I can't anticipate the thoughts, needs, and desires that slowly crawl up through your murky male subconscious, would I?"

Harry leaned and down and rewarded her with a toe-curling kiss, the likes of which she hadn't experienced in a long time. It wasn't like their marriage was in a rut, but the degree of familiarity made flying sparks increasingly rare. However there was something going on that had really brought out the passion in Harry, and Ginny wasn't about to complain. In fact, his passion was contagious, and she found herself participating with great enthusiasm.

"Would you two like to return with us to The Burrow for a couple of hours?" Hermione's amused voice asked.

Ginny glanced around, trying to spot Hermione, and noticed that she and Harry were floating eight feet off the ground. Hermione was standing right beneath them.

Harry snorted. "Appear at The Burrow without Molly's precious grandchildren with us?"

"Besides, we've got to be in Nomad Island for the opening of the Umbral Gate," Ginny added.

Hermione grinned. "I forgot about both things. How silly of me."

"That's all right."

Hermione looked away from them and got a sad smile on her face. "You'd better get your feet on _terra firma_ and rescue Ron from Heidi."

Ginny followed Hermione's gaze and say Heidi with her face buried in Ron's chest, while Ron awkwardly patted her on the back. He'd never been very good at comforting distraught women. It would have been a very amusing sight, were Heidi not so distraught. "You're right. Harry?"

Harry flew them over to where Ron and Heidi were standing before gently lowering them to the ground.

Ginny immediately relieved Ron from his sobbing burden and pulled Heidi into an embrace. "It's all right," she whispered soothingly.

"W-What if h-he d-doesn't come back?" Heidi stammered in between sobs.

"I'm sure that he'll find ways to send news of his progress to us. If we don't hear from him for more than a year, I'll go look for him," Harry said.

Ron stepped forward. "You mean _we'll_ go look for him."

Harry didn't reply to Ron's offer, and Ginny sensed the reluctance in his silence, probably due to the thought that he might not be able to guarantee Ron's safety in the Mirror Realm. Ron seemed to realise that too, and from the corner of her eye, Ginny saw her brother's face darken.

"You don't think I'd useful, do you?"

"On the contrary. I realise that your analytic ability is a great asset, but it doesn't weigh up against the mobility I would enjoy without you. Anyway, it isn't like I'd go without any tactical support. I'm sure Nicolai would go with me, and his influence in the Mirror Realm could be very helpful."

Ron's expression brightened up a bit. "Ah … all right."

"Shall we?" Hermione asked Ron, as she linked her arm through his.

"What's the hurry? It's not like Mum will miss us, with half her grandchildren in the house."

"I volunteered us to lend a hand in dealing with the aftermath of Diagon Alley."

"_Her-mi-o-ne_, we're supposed to be on holiday!" Ron whined.

"We can't _not go_, Ron. Bill, Fleur and Angelina are helping, and lots of people we know from Hogwarts…"

"People from Hogwarts? Bloody hell!" Harry slapped his forehead. "I completely forgot about Pansy Parkinson."

Ron chuckled. "Don't worry, _I didn't_. We tagged the fish and threw her back into the ocean. When things have settled down a bit, I'll go back to England to teach her some information gathering techniques. Not that we'll ever use her in a primary role, mind you. She's too dim for that."

"Anyway, we'll be back on the second of January, though you'll probably do a mirror call before then," Hermione interjected. "I think New Year's Eve will be a great time."

"Is the New Year's Eve gathering still on at The Wolfes' Den?" Ginny asked Heidi.

Heidi wiped her tears and nodded.

"Right, so we'll have the unlucky souls who'll have the graveyard shift in Citadel C&C patch us through to The Den," Ron said, using the home's recently adopted abbreviated name.

"Take care, Heidi," Hermione said sympathetically. "It'll be all right."

Heidi sniffed. "I suppose I couldn't hurt to be a bit more positive."

"That's the spirit," Ron with a little too much forced cheerfulness. Then Hermione muttered the trigger word, and they were gone, leaving Harry, Ginny and Heidi on the windswept bank of Lake Michigan.

"Shall _we_?" Ginny asked.

Harry clutched Ginny's left arm, and Heidi took his right one.

"Gudrun put the Portkey Charm on my boots, and she used an odd trigger phrase. I reckon it's a Muggle thing." Ginny clicked the heels of her shoes together three times. "There's no place like home."

* * *

x

* * *

The ride through the swirling portal had been fairly bumpy, turning the _Prowler_ over many times and leaving Wolfe slightly nauseous as it broke the surface of what had to be the Dreand Sea. The water droplets ran down the canopy, and soon Wolfe was able to see the distant shoreline, which resembled the one he'd seen when he'd been Phoenix. He manipulated the right controls, and to his relief the _Prowler_ rose out of the sea and began to fly towards the shoreline. Even though various tests performed during the Order's expedition into the Mirror Realm six years ago had shown that almost all artefacts which already had enchantments on them worked normally, he'd been worried that the interference that seemed to plague wands would somehow interfere with some of the craft's many enchantments. 

He touched down on a beach and got out of the _Prowler_ to see if he could find tracks that belonged to the craft Yamato had used to travel to the Mirror Realm with, though he didn't expect to find any. It was likely that Yamato's craft could fly, and thus very unlikely that there would be any tracks to follow.

Packed in the cargo compartments he had some drawings Faust had given him, sketches made based on descriptions made by the mer-people. It looked like a miniature version of the ship Maximus had commanded over Agua Caliente and Laketown, and according to the mer-people's description, it had to be about the size of his _Prowler_. From Maximus's memories, Wolfe knew that the magic powering Yamato's larger ship had been limited in much the same manner as the _Prowlers_ and _Cruisers_, and he fervently hoped that Yamato hadn't improved on that design, for it would make his search much more difficult.

Wolfe spent the next half hour rummaging through the cargo compartments, taking inventory of the items Ginny and Gudrun had packed. He uncovered a Spinner Slayer that might come in handy, and a repeating crossbow of a new design. There were also several soft packages, and Wolfe found a note folded up under the strings holding the largest one closed. He freed the note and unfolded it, smirking to himself as he read in untidy handwriting: _I just know you'll look very cool and very hot at the same time in these_. There was no way Ginny would have left a note like that, leaving the other person who had packed the _Prowler_ as the only possible culprit. Not that the bright red imprint of a kiss serving as a signature of sorts hadn't been a dead giveaway.

He chuckled to himself and briefly wondered whether he'd have given in to Gudrun's charms if Master Lei had raised him a little less strictly. She wasn't as beautiful as Galatea had been—few non-Veela women were—but her beauty easily matched Heidi's, even though she was attractive in a different way. Now, as he reflected on it, he found himself uncovering a memory that he must have repressed after Elvira Bonetti's death—an event that had, at the time, prompted him to swear off any possibility of romance in his future life.

He remembered the first time he'd met Gudrun, complaining about the all the drudge-work Captain Yee was making her do. She had stopped in mid-sentence as Astor Clagg led him into the maintenance bay, licked her lips and gave him a look that could make a man's blood boil … in a positive way. For his part, he'd somehow been able to see past the dyed hair and many facial piercings, straight into the blistering hot furnace of sensuality in her soul. Astor's warning about her reputation regarding men, combined with the fact that he didn't cross paths with her for some time afterward, as well as his subsequent meeting with the extremely beautiful Elvira, had made him push the encounter to the back of his mind, where it had remained until today.

It explained why he'd never been bothered if other women flirted with him, but had felt intense discomfort whenever Gudrun did so, during the years of his married life. Finally he had an explanation for his extreme reluctance to kiss her under the mistletoe the previous night. Subconsciously he must have remembered how sorely tempted he'd been at their first encounter, and that memory must have added to the feeling of betrayal towards Galatea and Heidi, not to mention Matt.

Shunting his memories aside for a moment, he opened the packages and took inventory of their contents, before deciding to change into the new outfit right there, even though it was also winter in that part of the Mirror Realm and the temperatures were near freezing. Meditating in extreme temperatures to learn to ignore the discomforts of those extremes had been one of Master Lei's most important lessons, and it served him well as he changed. When he was done, he walked over to a tide pool to check out his reflection, and found a man dressed completely in black staring back at him. A wide-brimmed hat shadowed his eyes, and a cloth mask covered the lower half of his face, both to keep him warm and to make him more difficult to identify, just in case that ever became an issue. A long woollen scarf was looped casually around his neck, and a long dragon-hide duster billowed out behind him, the hem just brushing the tops of highly durable dragon-hide boots—the smooth texture and relatively small scales narrowing the possible donor dragon species down to the Norwegian Ridgeback. The large coat had the added advantage of concealing many of his weapons and field equipment. The inner layers of clothing consisted of a leather waistcoat snugly buckled over a knitted turtleneck sweater that was lightweight without sacrificing warmth. A pair of close-fitting trousers in a durable twill, reinforced with a double layer of fabric to minimise wear and tear, was tucked into the tops of the boots. He looked like the Muggle ideal of a monster hunter, and he _did_ make a quite dashing figure.

Satisfied with his new outfit, Wolfe packed the remaining things up, hopped back into the _Prowler_ and flew farther along the coast, looking for a place to hide the_ Prowler_ while he searched for the probably non-existent clues to Yamato's whereabouts. This decision was based on the fact that the _Prowler_ had a limited supply of Conductive Potion, and the less he used the _Prowler_, the more slowly the potion would degenerate.

Gudrun and Ginny had thoughtfully packed a magical camouflage sheet that mimicked the disillusionment charm, allowing Wolfe to hide the _Prowler_ without tapping into its own reserves that could be used to accomplish invisibility by magic. Still, Wolfe preferred a place that was also inaccessible. He finally found a good spot to hide the craft on a thick natural column that rose out of the sea, separated from the mainland by eons of erosion. It was incredibly steep and hazardous to climb, and was only realistically accessible by air.

After throwing the sheet over the _Prowler_ and securing it to the ground, Wolfe changed into a griffin and took to the air, spending the next few hours gliding over the landscape, away from the area he knew some caretakers dwelled, doing so because he assumed that Yamato had read Pecos Bill's book and would try to steer clear of a bunch of Nalhati who could read his mind and malicious intent. He was about to give up when the sunlight reflecting off a surface attracted his attention to that patch of coastline, and he recognised the area from his memories of Phoenix. It was where he'd spoken to Novoridu—it was the place where Moira had been encased in a purification crystal, and the light reflecting off _that_ crystal had attracted his attention.

The wreck of Yamato's large centipede ship lay half-buried in the sand and it looked like it had been gutted quite extensively. A huge Abraxan winged horse with a howdah-like seating platform strapped to its back was munching on a patch of grass, casually observing five small figures that were climbing onto the hull of the ship. Even from his considerable altitude, his griffon eyes could distinguish them quite clearly, and he immediately saw that they were children. Two of them were human girls, and two others were also immature female humanoids, though they were slightly larger than their human counterparts and they had some feline features. They were probably examples of the Dait cat-girls. He didn't know what species the fifth one was. It had a thick coat of fur and was decidedly less humanoid than the cat girls, looking more like a three-foot-tall hamster that walked on it hind legs. He had a hunch that its kind lived underground

One of the cat-girls spotted him, and they quickly bolted into one of the holes in the hull of the ship. Not a bad decision, since they would have been viable prey if he'd been a real griffin. The Abraxan didn't even stir, knowing that it was far too large to be preyed upon by a griffin. It did keep an eye on him, though.

Wolfe landed on the beach and changed into his natural form, before casually strolling towards the wreck. The Abraxan's ears hand flicked in surprise as Wolfe had changed, and the girls must have seen it too. He spotted five faces momentarily peeking at him from the shadows within the wreck, but they soon ducked away again. He sighed, wondering whether he just ought to leave them be, since he had no idea how he'd communicate with them anyway, even if they knew something about Yamato.

Again some of the faces appeared behind apertures in the hull to peek at him, and again they ducked away after a second, save one. Realising that children might find him a bit sinister-looking, he took off his hat and pulled the mask down off his face, hoping to appear more benign. He also stopped walking towards the ship, keeping a respectful distance. It seemed to work, for soon the other faces appeared again, this time staying visible.

Suddenly, he felt a tendril of thoughts probe his mind. His initial urge was to block it, but the brief contact revealed the mind probing his to be very young and innocent, and with a start he realised that it had to be one of the children. He linked his mind to the probe, and began an exchange of thoughts, convincing the participant in their mental dialogue that he meant them no harm. He inquired about her parents by sending images of families and focussing on the mother, adding the questioning impression. It took several tries, but his contact finally seemed to understand what he was asking, and the image of a woman materialised in his mind's eye; a woman he knew, despite the fact that he'd never met her. It was Carey!

That realisation sent a flood of memories surging across the link towards the mind of his contact, who was excited by Wolfe's reaction and seemed to become more confident. Knowing that Carey could probably help him tremendously, Wolfe drew the location of her dwelling under the purple sky from the memories he'd absorbed from Harry and sent them over to his contact. The reply came as a brief confusion, but soon the contact also recognised the place. Her reply came in the form of the image of another dwelling, under a _blue_ sky, accompanied by sense of it being a correction before the tendril of thought retreated from his mind. Wolfe surmised that this meant that Carey had moved out of the Immortal's Circle.

Then, belatedly, he recalled that Carey was Holly's mother, and that at this point in time, Holly was still living with her. Moments after that epiphany, a small human girl clambered out of one of the holes and slid down the hull, but he didn't see the wild mane of black hair he'd been expecting. Then, as he thought about it, he remembered Ginny having said something about an adopted sister of Holly's, and the fact that, according to Holly, the girl hadn't been like the resident near-humans in the Mirror Realm.

As she came closer, he saw that she was a blooming visage of health. Her dark-brown hair framed a very round, lightly bronzed face with a short nose sprouting out of it, and her lips were fairly full and pouty. The most striking part of her features, however, were her eyes. They were just like his Mind Reading relatives' eyes, making him wonder whether it was a trait common to all Mind Readers. He'd never seen pictures of the Mind Readers Yamato had killed in his experimentations, but it seemed like a reasonable assumption.

The others had climbed out after her, and a pang of regret passed through Wolfe as he immediately recognised Holly even though she was only about seven years old. The fact that he knew how she'd end up, and that he couldn't do anything about it, saddened him immeasurably. The cat-girls approached him slightly more cautiously, and the hamster-like creature—its pelvic area suggesting that it was also female—brought up the rear.

Wolfe and the group of girls faced one another for a minute or so, unsure of what to do next. Then Holly stepped forward and gestured for him to bend down, so he got down on one knee in front of her. She placed her small hands on his temples and rested her forehead against his. He remembered this procedure from Harry's memories, and felt the tingling sensation which told him that she was using the magic required to learn his language.

After the transition was complete, she pulled away and looked at him. "Now I can talk to you."

Wolfe hesitated, unsure of what to tell her. Would he say that he knew Harry? Doing so might make things very complicated.

"Crystal says you know mother. How come?" she asked, as she eyed him curiously. "You are not from here!"

From Harry's memories, Wolfe knew that the fact that she'd never found out what had happened to Harry was what had prompted Holly to go look for him. So telling her that he knew Harry was out of the question. He decided to tell her something that was true, but would leave Harry out of it. "I've been touched by Novoridu—the caretaker of the winds—before he died. Through his magic I got some memories of your mother, just like your magic allows you to speak to me now."

"I was very little when Novoridu died, but I know him a bit, because my mother shared her dreams with me."

"Could you take me to see your mother?"

"She will come get us after she's finished with picking roots and herbs for potions. We always play here when we wait for her, because she says it's too dangerous farther under the purple sky."

"Then I'll wait for her here, with you," Wolfe said. "And while we wait, you can tell me your friends' names."

She turned around and pointed at Crystal. "That is my sister, Crystal. She isn't my sister like Eriya and Naria are sisters"—Holly pointed at each of the cat-girls as she mentioned their names—"because she didn't come out of my mother's womb, but out of that crystal over there." She paused her rattling recitation briefly to point at the gleaming crystal at the other end of the beach, before continuing. "Mother says that a woman who did bad things is trapped in it, and that she's Crystal's mother, and that Crystal was in her womb when she was trapped. But the crystal let Crystal out because _she_ didn't do any bad things herself, and…"

Wolfe's stomach somersaulted as his mind struggled to keep up with the implications of Holly's words. If Moira had been pregnant, there was only one possible father! His shock automatically tuned out the rest of Holly's frenzied speech as his gaze quickly sought out, and settled on Crystal … his daughter … who had inherited the Mind Reading gift. Now, in hindsight, he recognised the round face, small ears, and short nose from the residual self-image he'd seen in Moira's mind. The full lips and lightly tinted skin had come from his paternal grandmother, and were also shared by Jasmine.

The little girl seemed to notice that his attention was on her, and she gave him a sweet smile, revealing a pair of missing teeth, which was perfectly normal at that stage in childhood. Wolfe had no idea where the sudden sentimentality came from, but he couldn't do anything to stop the tears from filling his eyes.

* * *

xxx

* * *

**Author's Note:** A special thanks to those who've sacrificed their precious time to give me some feedback over the past few chapters. It helped me a lot. Oh, and what do you guys think of Wolfe's little shock in _this_ chapter? **_Reviews_** would be very much appreciated. __crawls on knees and grovels

* * *

**Janus Aran**: As you've read in this chapter, you were right about Vesta ovulating. But that wasn't too hard to guess, since the characters spoke about it shortly before the incident. 

**Gogirl**: If you expected Wolfe to be in trouble with Heidi, I'm sorry the end result was so disappointing for you. And no, Vesta is actually only ⅛ Veela, and her entrancing powers are negligible. Look at my answer to the previous reviewer to see where you went wrong.

**Lipton**: Again, congratulations. Nothing new for you in this chapter, since you've already read it.

**StarWest45**: I know.

**Chloe Black**: Glad you did.

**Bigdaddy753**: Yes he is.

**Lady of Masbolle**: Belated Happy Birthday to you.

**blah29**: Hence the chapter title.

**Nya**: Indeed. More redheads.

**lluvatar**: DONE

**The Keymaker**: I'm gathering information for an original novel. I plan to write one at some point, but I still have a very long way to go with regards to mastering English.

**Stefanie**: Ginny and Heidi never hated each other. They just misunderstood each other.

**Elric Magus**: You earned it.

**Saint Mike**: Yeah, It was funny.

**Fragarach**: Then you must have been happy to find that it didn't damage her relationship.


	13. Scrying for Signs

Chapter 13

**Scrying ****for Signs**

The Dreand Sea formed one of the borders that screened the Immortals' Circle from the rest of the Mirror Realm, forming an elongated, roughly four hundred mile border of varying width. It was about seventy miles at the widest point and a mere twenty at its narrowest. Carey had settled some ten miles inland from that narrow point, so the distance to cover while flying back had been relatively minor. Still, it had taken them two hours to cross the twenty miles of sea due to the freak storms that formed over the sea, created by the mystical currents in the Immortals' Circle. These storms had to be evaded, at all costs.

Like Pecos Bill—who had mapped the area at great risk to his life—some Etti and Dait had a knack for seeing the freak storm developing early on. Those brave souls dared to cross the sea by air on their winged-horse and hippogriff mounts, hoping to bring back sacks full of the extraordinary bounty the sea yielded on the immortal side of the shore. That was how a Dait fisherman had found Crystal, and after a brief stopover at the hamlet on the mortal coast of the sea which served as little more than a staging area for the fishermen skilled enough to brave the danger, she had been taken to the Dait village where Eriya and Naria lived. That village—which Wolfe had been able to see up close due to a brief landing to drop off the cat-girl twins and the Abraxan—lay less than a mile and a half from Carey's new hilltop home. _Beneath_ her home, a small warren-community of Berbols was situated, of which Crystal and Holly's friend was a member. One of its entrances lay only a stone's throw away from Carey's home, and the young Berbol had almost immediately disappeared inside after they'd landed, barely stopping to say goodbye to her friends. Wolfe had a feeling that his presence had been unsettling to her.

"Nice place you have," Wolfe said, while he glanced around the almost perfectly circular room that formed the cottage's living area. The only deviations were the three holes that accommodated the shuttered windows, two arched doorways that led to other chambers, and the chimney column, which seemed unusually wide for the elaborate fireplace. It had firedogs resting on the stone slab that formed its base, and an cast iron fire-back protected the wall from the heat. For insulation, animal skins covered the thick stone walls, and the stone floor was almost completely covered by a carpet woven from plant fibres.

The furniture was sparse, with five three-legged stools shaped like capital D's surrounding a rectangular table, and three bean-bag-like lumps for lounging in front of the fireplace. The design of the table and stools was reminiscent of the Viking style, especially in the complete absence of nails in their construction. Nevertheless, by working with angles and carefully carving the leg holes for a snug fit, they retained remarkable sturdiness. Master Lei had pointed similar pieces of furniture out to him while making a point about being inventive when certain materials were hard to find. There was also a handsome iron-hinged trapezoidal chest, about five feet long, four feet wide at the bottom and three feet wide at the top, and three feet high. The image of a dragon type unknown to Wolfe was carved into the side facing the room. Looking up, Wolfe saw that there was a timber ceiling under the thatched roof, and he guessed that the thatched layer served for additional insulation. He also caught Crystal peeking at him through the gaps in the railing of the wooden platform that made up the second floor. She flashed him another shy, heart-warming smile before ducking away.

"It's even more beautiful in spring and summer, when the flowers are blooming," Carey replied, and beckoned him to follow her into the adjoining chamber, which turned out to be the kitchen. There were another two hearths, also with overhanging chimneys, firedogs and fire-backs like the one in the living area. One of the hearths seemed dedicated to holding cauldrons and cooking pots, for it was equipped with a chimney crane that could swing pots into position. This crane not only turned, but was also able to raise and lower the pots with ratchet style levers. The other hearth seemed dedicated to roasting, and was equipped with spit-dogs having several hooks at varying heights to adjust the meat's distance from the fire. There was also a clockwork-jack, a spit-jack that could be wound like a clock and allow the spit to turn for a predetermined amount of time, as well as a smoke jack, which was a spit-jack equipped with fanlike paddles that were pushed by the rising hot air, thus turning the spit in that manner. Finally, there was an over-door in one of the walls, and a small door beneath it that served for the passage of the fuel source.

With a gesture, Carey summoned a small caldron off one of the shelves and sent it floating across the kitchen. It finally settled under a water pump, which immediately began to pump water into it by itself. Then Carey summoned a pair of dead birds resembling Jungle Fowls and removed all their feathers in one go with another gesture. It was like she was directing an orchestra, gesturing wildly as knives, jars with spices, wild potatoes, carrots and dried vegetables, and mortars for crushing spices flew around before landing on the large table in the middle of the kitchen to do their work like invisible scullions.

When the knives were chopping carrots and vegetables, and mortars were grinding spices a few minutes later, Carey sat down on a stool and gestured for Wolfe to do the same. A pair of mugs and a tea kettle flew off a shelf. The kettle and mugs passed by the water-pump to be filled and rinsed respectively, before settling down on the table in front of its two occupants. Carey waved her hand over the kettle, and a moment later steam was billowing out of the spout. Then she filled the mugs before throwing one tea-leaf in each. Wolfe found this a bit odd, since to his knowledge tea was usually made with crushed leaves and several leaves were needed for a cupful.

"So exactly why did you need my help, Max?" she asked. When she'd landed on the beach after her bout of foraging in the Mirror Realm, he'd introduced himself and immediately announced that he needed her help. She'd asked him to fly home with her and her children in order to discuss it, and though he normally would have been reluctant to risk wasting so much time, he'd decided to go along with him for his daughter's sake.

"I'm looking for an evil man who has escaped into the Mirror Realm. He had my wife killed and our unborn son cut out of her womb. My son survived, because my wife had been far enough along in her pregnancy. But he still has my son." He paused to gauge her reaction, and saw a disturbed frown appear on her forehead.

She nodded. "I see."

"He has a very fast means of transportation, and there is no way for me to track him by conventional methods. I … or rather … Harry, has been told that Nalhati have powerful scrying techniques."

Carey's eyebrows went up in surprise as she heard Wolfe use the caretakers' proper name, and it was a while before she replied. "I'll help in any way I can. You'll eat with us and spend the night here. Tomorrow I'll take you back into the Immortals' Circle to seek counsel from the elder Nalhati."

The muscles in Wolfe's back, which had been taut with the stress of uncertainty, slackened with relief. He hadn't expected her to refuse, but lately he had learned to assume the worst "Thank you. If there's anything I can do to repay you…"

"There might be, but it wouldn't be right to ask that of a friend of Harry's. He looked up to you, you know."

"So … I've been told," Wolfe replied hesitantly.

"This troubles you?" Carey asked, having sensed the tension in his reply.

Wolfe shook his head. "It's just that I've done some things that I'm not proud of. My zeal in hunting my enemies made me lose sight of who I am."

"But you found yourself in the end."

"It isn't over yet," Wolfe said gloomily, feeling a sense of dread slowly creeping back into his heart. As if she'd been able to sense that, she immediately reached over and caressed his cheek, and all ill feelings drained away as her skin touched his.

He remembered that treatment from the shared memories with Harry. However, now there also appeared a reaction on her part, as a look of recognition crossed her pretty face. "I know that something significant happened in your realm, something that brought about Korumu's demise, but also cost Novoridu his life. Is this why you have some of Harry's essence, and some of Novoridu's?"

Wolfe nodded. "I can imagine it being a bit of a shock to meet a person with pieces of other people's essence."

"That wasn't what surprised me."

"Wasn't it?"

Carey shook her head. "This may come as a shock to you, but you're Crystal's father."

Wolfe was surprised to hear that, but Nalhati had many abilities he didn't know about. "I know I am. Holly told me some things on the beach, and I put two and two together. How could _you_ tell?"

"Because I saw your essence when I touched you. A child carries half the essence of each parent into her mystical signature, and I recognised yours from Crystal's." Carey paused to take a sip of her tea.

"She looks a lot like Moira, before Moira transformed herself while attempting to achieve immortality." Wolfe closed his eyes to better visualise the way Moira had seen herself in her own mind. For some reason, her self image had never adapted to her outward appearance. He kept at it for a while, and when he opened his eyes again he saw that Carey was busy tossing chunks of fowl into the already boiling water.

Silently drinking his tea—realising as he did so that the single leaf in the warm water had been more than enough—he was content to watch her bustle about the kitchen, which, upon reflection, seemed to be very elaborate for a small cottage. To his shame, that wasn't the only thing he noticed. At some point she had discarded the poncho she'd been wearing after the kitchen had heated up. Harry's memories hadn't prepared him for the sight of her in real life.

It was like being in the presence of a Veela, but far more subtle and less mind-numbing. He could easily block the Veela Charm. Yet whatever attraction this was, it seemed to seep through the tiny fractures in his defences. Not that he felt like throwing himself at her feet. He was in perfect control of his mental faculties, but for whatever reason he couldn't fight the attraction she was exerting. The brief sense of guilt that flashed through him was absorbed by an unseen force, as was the worry he felt about that. Fortunately he had enough control to confront her about it.

He cleared his throat. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be rude, but do you possess some power that attracts men?"

The pink tinge she already had on her face due to the heat coming off the fires deepened, and the way she lowered his gaze guiltily answered the question for him. A heartbeat later he found the attraction fading.

"How did you know?" she asked, her quiet voice barely carrying over the cracking of the crackling of the flames. "You weren't supposed to be able to tell."

"Maybe it's an side-effect of the Novoridu's imprint, or perhaps my Incubus blood." Wolfe frowned. "But why were you trying to seduce me?"

"Men like you and Harry are very rare, and I find myself drawn to you."

"You hardly know me."

"I can sense these things, Max. You and Harry are two of a kind, and … well …" Her blush deepened even further as her sentence faltered. Then she seemed to gather her courage before continuing. "I can tell that you still love your dead wife just like Harry loves his Ginny, and that that's why you fought so hard to resist my … call of seduction. I'm sorry, it's my vice." She wrapped her arms around herself and stared at the floor, looking quite forlorn. Then she raised her eyes to meet again. "But please don't think badly of me. I am not in the habit of doing it. Indeed, I haven't done it since Harry. It takes a great man to draw my attention."

Wolfe didn't know what to think of that confession. "You used your power on Harry to get him to sleep with you?"

"Yes, but that isn't why he slept with me. He resisted, just like you. In the end he did it by his own choice."

Not completely trusting her word, Wolfe quickly scanned her thoughts. Not only did he find that she'd told him the truth, but he also felt her intense loneliness, and he berated himself for intruding into her thoughts like that. He genuinely pitied her for that. "I'm flattered, but I can't indulge you. I'm sorry."

"Was your wife a jealous woman? Do you think she would begrudge you my companionship, even in death?"

Wolfe hesitated for a bit, wondering whether or not he ought to tell her about the torturous situation he'd been in before Galatea's death. Then, deciding that it would be as good a distraction as any, he spilled his guts to Carey, even telling her about the child Heidi was almost certainly expecting, and that both Heidi and Ginny had had a vision about it. And she turned out to be a very good listener.

When he was done, a small smirk appeared on her face. "I just remembered, your Heidi is the one who looked like Harry's Ginny so much."

"Yes, she does." Wolfe laughed, remembering the behavioural similarity Heidi and Ginny had displayed during his visit. "They are alike in more ways that just looks. Had they been raised in the same circumstances, I think they'd have been even more alike."

"Like you and Harry."

"You have no idea how close Harry and I came to growing up as stepbrothers. My great-grandfather wanted to train Harry like he trained me, and wanted to kidnap Harry out of his Muggle relatives' home. I'm glad he didn't, though. His training would have taken away some of the purity Harry needed to destroy Voldemort, since the sword of Godric Gryffindor could only channel the necessary magic properly if wielded by a soul unwilling to embrace corruption. I was taught that resorting to dark means is okay … sometimes. Good thing Harry wasn't." He sighed at the memory of his well-intentioned but misguided mentor. "So, what's my daughter like?"

While she cooked, Carey guided him through a summary of the first six years of his daughter's life with remarkable accuracy, illustrating his daughter's character with several anecdotes about things she'd done from toddler-hood until her current age. Crystal seemed to have a fiery spirit with a bit of a vindictive streak which could have come from either him or Moira. But there were also hints of a protective and nurturing personality, because she kept bringing injured animals into the house for Carey to heal. Much to Carey's dismay, some had been quite dangerous and fierce predators. But all of them were quite docile in Crystal's presence, and Carey told him that she was quite certain that Crystal had a strong affinity with beasts.

Their dinner became a drawn-out affair, since Holly kept quizzing him about the Earth Realm, and Harry, until Carey finally silenced her, having sensed Wolfe's reluctance. Not that he hadn't wanted to talk about it, but talking about it would greatly have increased the odds of him mentioning that Harry had reached the Earth Realm safe and sound, some seven-and-a-half years ago. Keeping her ignorant was crucial to the developments in her future … and his past.

Now, reflecting on those thoughts as he absently watched Holly and Crystal splashing around in a metal tub and lather each other's hair with some sort of lemony-smelling homemade herbal shampoo, he wondered whether her future self had recognised him when saving his life after the destruction of Korumu's Stone. If she had, it meant that she'd kept quiet _then_ for the same reasons he was keeping quiet now. Any knowledge on his part that he'd end up in the Mirror Realm and meet her, might have led him to wonder why he'd go to the Mirror Realm in the first place. He knew himself well enough to know that he wouldn't simply have assumed that it had happened on a possible Mirror Realm expedition. No … knowing the future would have thrown his life into disarray for certain.

Still, he couldn't help wondering how Holly and Pecos Bill had known where and when to find Harry to make their nick-of-time rescue possible. Accessing Harry's memories for the umpteenth time, he combed through Holly's testimony for clues. The way she had described things to Harry while he was being nursed back to health in Merlin's dwelling had suggested that it had been an incredible stroke of luck that they'd been at the right place, but more importantly, at the right time. The odds were simply astronomical! Would one of the Nalhati in the future have told her? That didn't make a lot of sense, since the Nalhati had denied being able to see into the Forest of Reflection. He briefly pondered whether they might have lied about that to Harry, but a subtle sense of indignation from within provided by Novoridu's essence convinced him that they had indeed been truthful. Wolfe's mind set aside Harry's memories and went back to the scheme he'd used to save Harry's life.

In order to complete the causality loop, he had dropped a Cauldron Clone in Harry's place. Could it be that fate meant for him to save Harry's life again, indirectly, by completing another causality loop? He was the only being in either realm that he knew of, who could tell Holly exactly where and when to save Harry, since he shared Harry's memories. The situation was so eerily similar to the one Harry had found himself in at the end of his third year at Hogwarts. He'd waited, expecting his dead father to show up and save his life, until he realised that must have saved his own life and acted upon it. Wolfe wondered whether he had to wait, since there was a slim chance that Holly and Pecos Bill had indeed happened on Harry's location in time and space by a sheer stroke of luck, or if he had to act and somehow convey the proper knowledge to Holly.

After internally debating for a while whether or not to do anything, he decided to postpone that decision for a while. Instead, he scrutinised his current surroundings on the platform that basically made up the second floor of the circular dwelling.

The extra width of chimney he'd noticed earlier was explained by the presence of a small fireplace on the platform. The extra mass had been solid rather than hollow to provide the base of the fireplace, but from the platform on up the chimney was completely hollow, channelling the smoke from the fire downstairs right alongside the smoke generated by the small fireplace. This fireplace, carefully constructed not to allow any glowing embers to spatter out onto the wooden platform, wasn't equipped for cooking. Instead, it seemed meant to provide heat for the immediate vicinity, as well as heating the underside of a small water reservoir that probably served to collect rainwater running off the roof. A pipe ran from the reservoir to a water-pump, which Carey had used to fill the bathtub with heated water. The house was really quite ingeniously constructed and he doubted that Carey had done it herself, based on what Harry knew of her. It had to have been someone with knowledge of architecture, something that he didn't imagine coming with the 'caretaker of the wildflowers' territory.

The other furnishings consisted chairs of a large king-sized four-poster and two smaller beds. A hammock that didn't look like it was normally there had been hung from two overhead beams. Wolfe guessed that was where he would be sleeping.

"Max?" Carey's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. As his eyes gained focus on reality once more, he saw his daughter standing in front of him. She was done bathing, and was wearing a night-dress now. She regarded him with large, inquisitive eyes as she held out a wooden hairbrush to him. "Would you brush her hair?"

He turned to Carey, who gave him an encouraging smile while holding her own daughter's foam-mouthed face firmly in place as she scraped a primitive-looking but functional toothbrush over her teeth. So he reached forward and lifted his daughter to set her down astraddle one his legs. Then, remembering instructions his sister had given for brushing his niece's hair, he gently began brushing the slightly damp hair starting on the inside at the nape of her neck, careful not to rip through the tangles. With every brush the scented shampoo wafted towards him, filling him with a mild feeling of euphoria akin to being in an oxygen rich environment. It was like he'd truly taken a deep breath for the first time of his life.

As he continued to gently run the brush through her light-brown hair, Wolfe also wondered why his daughter was so eager to bond with him. Children had always tended to be intimidated by him, including his nephew Charlie, who had inherited the Mind Reading gift from his mother. So it couldn't be the fact that he and Crystal had linked minds when they had met. But for some unfathomable reason, she seemed to have taken to him immediately. He was actually disappointed when Crystal slid off his knee and skipped over to Carey to get her teeth brushed too.

"Would you like to bathe too?" Carey asked him as she began brushing Crystal's teeth. "Harry told me about modesty, so I could get you a screen. Of course, the girls have never seen a human or Etti man naked before, so I can't be certain that they won't try to sneak a peek," she added teasingly.

"All right," Wolfe consented, feeling that he ought to grab every opportunity to take a bath since there was no telling how long he might go without one after tomorrow.

* * *

x

* * *

The long day in the Immortals' Circle must have tired the girls out, because they'd been fast asleep by the time Wolfe had stepped out of the bathtub the previous evening. He and Carey retired not too long after the girls, after discussing their time of departure from Carey's home, and where they would go to seek counsel in the Immortals' Circle. They had settled on asking Wesdagor—known to non-Nalhati as the caretaker of the ponds—for his help, since scrying was known to be his strong suite.

Wolfe felt his hamster-form self being lifted out of the pouch Carey had placed him in, much sooner than he'd expected. She had suggested that mode of travel, for even though she was mortal now, she was still a full-blooded Nalhati and could plough through the freak storms instead of going around them. She would have been forced to do that if he'd accompanied her in the form of a griffin or some other flying animal, and she would have had to fly much slower as well, since no magical or normal flying beast could match the blistering speed of the angel-winged Nalhati. He returned to his normal form as soon as he felt the ground under his little paws, and immediately noticed the kind-looking old man he knew from Harry's memories.

"So nice to have visitors other than my immediate neighbours again," Wesdagor said happily. "It also gladdens me to see that part of Novoridu still lives on, in such a worthy individual too," he added, eyeing Wolfe with a fair amount of satisfaction.

Carey had to touch him to find out about the same thing, but this elder Nalhati had been able to tell by only looking at him. Wolfe suspected that their skill and power increased and sharpened with age. Just as he wondered whether Wesdagor would be able to detect Harry's essence, the old Nalhati continued.

"I must say, I had hoped that you would come to seek my counsel. When Harry came to see me, I knew that there was someone other than his Twin Flame whose fate would be entwined with his through time and space. But I am sure you are starting to realise that yourself."

"You knew he was here?" Carey asked, evidently surprised.

Wesdagor nodded. "As soon as he entered our domain, owing to the presence of Novoridu and Harry's marks." Then he turned to Wolfe. "Unfortunately, your quarry had no such links to me, and by the time I was able to discern his alignment through other means, he was already beyond my sphere of influence," he added, regret etched on his features. "He seemed to be aware of the fact that my kind wouldn't react to him favourably."

Wolfe's heartbeat quickened into a that of a ancient African war dance. "Which way did he go?"

"If you join me by the pond, I will be able to do much better than merely telling you which way he went. Another bit of good news I have for you is that I also gained an impression on your son. He's in good health, and as of yet uncorrupted by his captor. I've also sent out warnings to the beings living in the area where your quarry seems to be headed. Perhaps they might make your task a bit easier."

"You might have endangered those beings," Wolfe said darkly. "Yamato himself might be unimpressive, but he can rely on many powerful gadgets."

"My probe revealed that, which is why I also told them to be extremely cautious. Now, take off your glove and put your hand in the water, where it is swirling," Wesdagor said. He had cast a spell on the pond, and part of the water's surface near the edge had begun to swirl because of it.

Wolfe removed his glove and placed his hand in the icy-cold water. It first nothing happened, but after a few seconds he felt some kind of energy crawl up his arm. It lasted for about a minute, after which the sensation disappeared.

"You may take out your hand now," Wesdagor instructed, and Wolfe complied. The moment his hand left the water the swirling stopped and that part of the pond's surface became like a mirror.

Yamato's malicious face appeared on it half a heartbeat later. It looked like he was piloting the craft he'd entered the Mirror Realm with. Then the view shifted to a toddler wearing a shabby romper suit he was outgrowing very quickly. Wolfe was shocked to see how much his son looked like him. People had often told him how much Robert looked like him, but compared to Westley, Robert looked like Galatea.

Wesdagor muttered some more words under his breath, and the image transformed to show the outside of the craft. It looked very scarred, and two of its legs were missing. "It looks like his ship has been damaged while he through the Fiery Peaks of Quala." Then the image shifted again, turning into something very similar to the images provided by orbital eyes. Yamato's craft was represented by a miniature, though exaggerated in size, since the image covered too large an area for Yamato's craft to be visible.

"How tall are those peaks?" Wolfe said, immediately noticing the size of the volcanoes.

"Nearly as tall as the Immortal Peaks that surround Forbidden plains and the Forest of Reflection," Carey said.

Wolfe frowned. The mountain Harry had climbed to reach the Forest of Reflection had been about six miles high. But even if the Peaks of Quala were nearly as tall, surely Yamato's craft would have been able to easily clear them. "How did Yamato's craft get damaged? I'm sure his craft could have reached orbit, in the Earth Realm."

"The Fiery Peaks are magical mountains capable of spitting debris up to three times their own height. I believe your quarry didn't know that, and flew over the peaks with a margin he deemed safe but really wasn't." Wesdagor said.

"And my son nearly paid for his mistake," Wolfe grumbled. Still, his son was all right, and Yamato's craft had taken damage. He'd have to halt somewhere to repair it, giving Wolfe ample opportunity to catch up. "So, I can fly over those volcanoes safely if I fly beyond their spitting range?"

"Yes."

Wolfe stared at the image in the pond, imprinting it into his memory. The miniature craft symbolising Yamato's craft was flying over an fork in a narrow river, still headed what would have been _south_, in the Earth Realm.. Beyond that, Wolfe knew he'd be on his own. He'd have to do his own detective work to see which way Yamato had gone. He sighed. "Too bad I can't talk to anyone who might see him passing by. _Harry_ got Novoridu's affinity to learn languages."

Wesdagor got a twinkle in his blue eyes that strongly reminded Wolfe of Aberforth Dumbledore. "I believe I have means to remedy your inability to converse with the natives of this realm."

* * *

x

* * *

**Foxfur**: To answer the question you asked in your Chapter 11 review, it was your guess that the baby somehow had a power that saved Wolfe. And to answer the question you asked after Chapter 12, yeah, Holly _was_ withholding information.

**Starwest**: Thanks for reminding me about the twins. **Disclaimer:** The names of the cat-girls have been borrowed from Escaflowne.

**hootild**: It _is_ sad, itsn't it?

**blah29**: I'll try to keep it coherent.

**Saint Mike**: I love doing that.

**Gogirl**: Not one of the first three reviewers, for a change. Anf FYI, my fic isn't a paradox, since the causality makes perfect sense. In Termninator, the SKYNET project was based on the arm and the chip of the first Terminator. But if the robot hadn't been sent to the past, there would have been no SKYNET. The cause _is_ the effect, which doesn't make sense. And it isn't even a paradox, but simply a badly thought-through plot device. Most people didn't notice because Arnold was so cool.

**Furioh**: No, it isn't the case. Re-read Chapter 25 of Existence after Life and Chapter 19 of Mind War. It should explain why Holly was 18 or 19 when she came looking for Harry in Mind War.

**Athena McGonagall**: Good to have you back.

**Fragarch**: I'm sure you did.

**bane**: A change in behaviour is only called "out of character" if there is no explanation for that change. Near death experiences tend to have a profound impact on people's psyche. If you don't believe that having a chat with the god of magic was enough to change Wolfe's outlook on life, _nothing_ will please you.

**Shalli**: Crystal isn't a super-child.

**The Keymaker**: I am proud to mention that lately I've gained the ability to actually plan things a bit in advance.

**Lady of Masbolle**: No, Ron isn't going to have any children by different women. As for Ginny, in Chapter 12 she'd barely been fertilised. The baby was nothing more than a lump of cells.

**Lipton**: No, it wasn't just you. Hugh Jackman rules!

**Elric Magus**: Yes indeed.

**lluvatar**: Here you go.

**Dhasku Alidath**: Cool pen-name. Don't be a lurker. ;-)

**Chloe Black**: Re-read Chapter 25 of Existence after Life and Chapter 19 of Mind War.


	14. Breaking Point

Chapter 14

**Breaking Point**

Even though it was very useful in translating all the languages he heard, and allowed him to speak them in return, Wolfe was thinking that Wesdagor's cure to his linguistic disability was worse than having the disability itself.

_"I heard that!"_ the now ever-present voice in the back of his mind shouted indignantly.

_"Of course you did. Private thoughts are a thing of the past for me," Wolfe_ mentally replied in exasperation to the translation symbiont living somewhere near his brainstem.

_"Lighten up. Without me, you wouldn't be able to talk to anyone."_

_"A small price to pay for some peace and quiet, Jelly," Wolfe_ thought, addressing the symbiont by its abbreviated nickname. Its proper name was Dromalakutajelly, but Wolfe called it Jelly for the sake of brevity and because it looked like a jellybean on the outside.

_"This isn't my idea of a party either, you know. I can't believe I've endured two years of this torture," Jelly_ answered petulantly.

_"I'm sure it hasn't been two whole years yet."_

_"I'm a translator, not a calendar."_

_"Would you be quiet!"_

_"Why? I have to hear **your** thoughts all the time, whether I want to or not."_

_"You were created for that sole purpose."_

_"That doesn't mean I wouldn't rather be doing something else."_

_"Time to earn your keep, Jelly," _Wolfe thought, as he approached the end of a queue in front of the gates of a fairly large city called Astirian, which was the capital city of an outlying fiefdom belonging to the Shamballah Empire. At least, officially it did, but judging from the chained beings that looked like they were about to be sold into slavery, Wolfe gathered that the authority of Shamballah must have lost its influence here. He knew that, being roughly the size of Sudan, the Shamballah kingdom proper was difficult enough to administrate. It would take more time for his grandfather to set things straight within the kingdom, which had fallen into disarray itself in the centuries after the old emperor's death. And only after accomplishing _that _could he start thinking about restoring the fiefs, which together covered a territory the size of Kazakhstan.

It seemed that Yamato had chosen to change tactics in coming here, probably to try to lose himself in a crowd instead of hiding out in a remote place. And losing himself wouldn't be all that difficult for Yamato in a place like this. Despite the city's white walls and colourful banners waving in the gentle breeze, the evil in the air was almost palpable. It was as if the pristine-looking city mocked the unfortunate souls being lead into its gates. Yamato would definitely feel right at home there, hopefully enough to lower his guard and allow Wolfe to finally catch him.

His anticipation grew with every step with every step. He hadn't been this close to capturing Yamato since shortly after his arrival in the Mirror Realm, when Yamato's craft had been damaged by volcanic debris spewed out by the Peaks of Quala. However, Wolfe had been thwarted by the fact that Yamato had also been able to communicate with the Mirror Realm natives. That was how he had convinced a Tribe of Alai that he was Westley's guardian, and that _Wolfe_ was the evil one, trying to kidnap the boy.

The Alai, known in the Earth Realm as Jann, were the least magically powerful and most human-like of the Jinn. The peaceful region they inhabited had turned them into a friendly people with a Bedouin-like sense of hospitality. The absence of hostility in their existence had also made them a bit naïve, so they hadn't questioned Yamato's story. As a result of Yamato's clever ploy, Wolfe had been forced to fend off a tribe of outraged Alai for hours. He could have dispatched them more quickly if he'd used lethal force, but he'd refrained from doing so since a casual scan of the Alai's thoughts had uncovered Yamato's involvement. By the time he'd convinced the Alai with the truth, Yamato had built up a lead again.

The first three months had basically been a chase around the Immortal's Circle with the Prowler, before both the Prowler and Yamato's craft ran out of energy. Then, for almost the complete duration of the remaining year and a half, he'd pursued Yamato across three of the four continents the Mirror Realm had. He'd traversed a huge tropical jungle with so much humidity that it made the Amazon seem like a temperate forest. He'd searched hundreds of villages in an area of grasslands as large as the prairies and plains of North America, the Pampas of South America, and the Eurasian Steppes combined. He'd searched a reef archipelago made up of four hundred islands whose sizes varied from atolls to the size of Jamaica, of which there were a handful. But he'd also passed through more normal places.

Since Yamato had also been forced to stick to the safer travelling routes both within and between these places, tracking him hadn't been too difficult. After all, these routes meant crossing paths with other travellers, and fortunately Yamato hadn't been as successful as he would have liked when it came to keeping a low profile. Unfortunately he'd repeated his lying routine in many settlements, which caused Wolfe delays every time. However, that had ended some four months ago, when Wolfe encountered a colony of Solarionqwë, known in the Earth Realm's Scandinavian world as Ljosalfar, though even Scandinavian wizards hadn't seen them for nine hundred years. This race of predominantly female Light Elves had somehow seen through Yamato's deception, and though they had failed to detain him, they had sent messengers to anyone who would listen, warning them about Yamato's true nature. Their help had allowed Wolfe to close in on Yamato very quickly, which had led him to Astirian.

Wolfe briskly strode past the queue of shuffling slaves and their snarling guards. Most were tall, hairy hominids that were numerous in the area. They had a primitive lifestyle and a limited form of magic, much like that of goblins and dwarves. In the Mirror Realm they called themselves the Meidels, and back home the native Americans had had many names for them, varying from region to region. The most well-known names among Muggles were Bigfoot and Sasquatch, but there were also other names like Skunk Ape, Oh-mah, Momo, Grassman, and as they were called where his grandmother Tempeste lived, Wookie. Their captors were a race of human-sized goblins called the Woroghs, which also appeared to be the most numerous slavers, though there were also Pinaka lizard-men, Medusas with their eyes covered by dark goggles, and a few Etti.

His intestines twisted with guilt upon seeing a particular family of Meidels he'd run into while passing through a neighbouring area some six months ago. They'd already been suffering harassment from slavers at the time, and having noticed some of his fighting prowess, they had asked him for help. He'd refused, afraid that Yamato's trail would grow cold, and they hadn't even shown any resentment over his decision. Instead they had given him whatever supplies they could spare and wished him luck for his quest.

_"Feeling guilty, are we?"_ Jelly quizzed him in a smug tone of thought.

Wolfe ignored the symbiont to the best of his ability. He'd set things right, _after_ finding his son and killing Yamato. As guilty as it made him feel, he also felt that his decision had been the right one. He probably would have lost Yamato if he hadn't kept on tracking him.

_"If you keep telling yourself that, you might start to believe it."_

_"Cut it out, Jiminy. I'm already a real boy."_ was Wolfe's terse mental reply. The nerve of that symbiont to act as his conscience..

"Halt!" a booming voice shouted, interrupting Wolfe's internal rant. Half a heartbeat later, an armoured gauntlet landed heavily on his shoulder, and Wolfe had to reign in his defensive instincts that made him want to grab the hand and twist it. He'd been afraid that something like this would happen, and his initial inclination had been to either transform himself into a small animal or shrink himself to get in unnoticed. But the vast number of predators in the region that preyed on fairy-sized beings had dissuaded him from that course of action.

Wolfe slowly turned around, coming face to face with an eight-foot-tall muscle-bound minotaur, the black orbs that were its eyes gleaming with savage fury.

"What is your business here?" the creature snarled, blowing vapour out of its nostrils as it exhaled powerfully. It was a gesture of intimidation, as was its gouging of the ground with its large hoof.

Giving the creature a once-over, Wolfe took stock of its attire. It wore armour plating on its chest and back, while a skirt made of tough, bronze-studded leather strips and metal wrist-guards offered its loins and forearms some protection. Then he stared the creature in the face once more. "There's a slave market, isn't there?"

The creature seemed unconvinced. Wolfe guessed that he didn't look like the average slaver coming through here. "You are here to buy slaves? Where are you from? You look strange, even for an Etti! Are you buying workers?"

Wolfe's first instincts were to dispatch the minotaur and go on his merry way, but he'd immediately discarded that option, realising that it would probably bring most of the soldiers in the city down on him. However, his eyes fell on a trio of Doalun women, also slaves, and he got an idea for a plausible cover story. Doalun were a half-breed race descended from an equal mix of human and Doppleganger shape-shifter blood. There were still some Doppelgangers in the Earth realm, and when sighted by Muggles they'd been mistaken for aliens. Unlike Doppelgangers, who were very slender and had disproportionately long limbs, large and bulging eyes, and a hard-to-discern mouth, nose and ears, Doalun were much more humanlike. They shared their Doppelganger ancestors' smooth, pale skin, but had inherited the hair on their heads from their human ancestors. They also had human-like facial features and a more human-like bodily proportions, and they could still alter their appearance fairly dramatically, though not as much as full Doppelgangers, who could increase and decrease their mass with as much as two-hundred percent of their normal mass. Doalun were limited to about half that.

"I'm from the realm that links to the gate of Shamballah. I _am_ here to buy slaves. Not workers, but concubines. Specifically, Doalun concubines. Males in my realm would pay handsomely for a female who is able to adapt to his vision of the suitable female."

"I thought that new emperor was opposed to this business. And where are your bartering goods?" the minotaur asked, still unconvinced.

Wolfe rolled his eyes. Minotaurs were generally not very intelligent. Just his luck to encounter one that actually used its puny brain. "I'm on a mercantile expedition. I'm here to _explore_ _the possibility_ of purchasing these females and somehow slipping them past the emperor's watchmen. I won't actually buy anything … _this_ time." He faked an impressed expression. "You know, you are a quite intelligent specimen of your kind. We could use talent of that calibre back in my realm. The business we intend to set up with the females could use a minotaur of your insight to keep the undesirables out. Your pay would be very handsome, of course. Much more than that of a gate guardsman, for we'd cater to only the most exclusive clientele."

The minotaur's expression told Wolfe that he'd scored a valuable point in appealing to its greed, and he suppressed a shudder as the creature's foul breath wafted into his face as a consequence of its delighted chuckling.

"My name is Gorback. I live in the barracks of the western quarter of the city. I can always be found around there when I am not on duty. Before you pass, tell me your name."

"Tetsuo Yamato."

_"Good one,"_ Jelly piped up from inside Wolfe's mind.

Wolfe smiled and proceeded, making the most of the Metamorphmagus abilities he'd refined over the past year as he changed his features, hair and eye-colour once again. It was a pity that he couldn't deviate from a standard human appearance to look more like an Etti, but at least he had the advantage that Yamato wouldn't recognise him on sight. He followed the throng of slaves and slavers deeper into the city, until he reached the market square. Pretty much everything was on sale there, including intelligent beings.

"Make way for the Duchess of Astirian," someone shouted behind Wolfe, and he copied the locals' behaviour hastily. He couldn't get a look at the ruler who condoned this slavery, since it seemed to be expected that everyone bow their head as the Duchess and her twelve-man guard passed. The reflection of a puddle in the road told him that he wouldn't have seen much anyway, since the mysterious Duchess was carried around in a completely covered sedan chair. It wasn't until the rear guard was over twenty yards away that the people started walking again. Wolfe saw the procession disappear into a wider road that connected to the square. It led up to a grand ivory castle with spires so tall that they cast shadows over the marketplace.

Putting his mind back to the task at hand, Wolfe started walking along the stalls, searching for any objects that Yamato might have bartered for supplies and scanning the surface thoughts of those whose faces betrayed recognition of his unusual appearance, hoping that it meant that they'd seen the only other full-blooded human in the area. But in every case, he saw genuine surprise and curiosity, and after two hours of prowling the stalls, during which he'd discouraged no less that nine hopeful pickpockets, despair and hopelessness began gnawing at the edges of his mind. It had never taken him that long to pick up Yamato's trail before.

An anguished wail emanating from a young throat dragged his attention to the waist-high platform where the slaves stood on display for the auction. A small Doalun girl no older than six was being dragged away from her family. The slavers concentrated their attention on a tall male who appeared to be the father, implying that he would be speared by their weapons if he even twitched. An older female Doalun, probably the grandmother, tried to restrain a hysterical younger one who was heavy with child. She failed, and seconds later the young mother was hurtling towards her child. One of the Worogh slavers saw her and reflexively lashed out with his halberd, burying the hooked part of the blade in her woman's upper back. It was so long that it went all the way though her body, its bloody tip emerging from her chest. The snarling Worogh pulled his weapon back and the Doalun woman stumbled forwards a few more steps before dropping to her knees and falling backwards onto the platform.

"Mammie," the little girl wept as she bent over her dying mother, who tried to talk to her daughter but ended up coughing droplets of blood into the little girl's face.

"Fool!" the Worogh who appeared to be in charge snarled at the one who had lashed out. "We could have sold her at a good price with another slave growing in her belly!"

"She is far enough along. If we cut it out before she dies it might survive," a third Worogh suggested.

The world around him faded out as Wolfe heard the slaver utter those words, and he saw red. He clenched his fists, no longer able to fight the urge to set things right and free the slaves, even though it meant he'd have to cut down every slaver and every soldier in the city, covering the pristine white walls in their blood!

_"Don't do anything foolish. You know the city alone has a standing army of five thousand, many of them being expert archers. You're good, but not **that** good," Jelly_ warned him anxiously.

"Just this once, I'll have to be!" Wolfe growled out loud. The Phoenix Katana burned hotly in its scabbard, heartily agreeing with Wolfe, and as he grasped it to draw it from his scabbard, it joined its energy with his, increasing it exponentially. The ground trembled due to the sheer amount of energy coursing through him. Seconds later, large cracks appeared in the soil before large chunks ripped themselves free, levitated upwards and shattered into ever smaller pieces as he drew on and focussed more and more magical energy. He could feel that his altered appearance was blocking the optimal flow of power, so he reversed his Metamorphmagus transformation. That caused the power to _really_ cut loose, and a roaring nimbus of translucent whitish flames erupted around him, at first dancing close to his frame, but expanding outwards four feet in every direction as his power grew.

The Phoenix Katana throbbed in his hand once more as he felt the sword taking their unity to the next level. The roaring aura around him changed its colour to a deep orange with golden sparks dancing around the edges, and the sword began to sing a phoenix's song that added to Wolfe's resolve to give him a type of divine determination. For selfish reasons, he'd been taking the easy way out for a long time. Now it was time to do the _right_ thing.

The marketplace was now silent, save for the final echoes of his scream that he hadn't even been aware of, bouncing off the stone buildings, and the rumbling sound of the shaking and shattering chunks of rocky soil around him. Everyone gazed at him with a mixture of awe and fear. "The slavery ends today!" he roared, despite the rawness of his throat. "Unshackle your captives and leave!"

Of course, the slavers had no intention of doing so, despite being faced with someone shrouded in a nimbus of energy that caused the ground around him to break apart. Still, they didn't underestimate his power and immediately went for their crossbows. Wolfe knew he could dodge their arrows or even banish them in mid-air, but he didn't feel like wasting his time. He channelled his magic into a Speed Charm and whizzed towards his attackers who seemed to be bringing their weapons to bear in slow motion. Four slashes later, the Doalun family's captors were twitching on the platform, blood spurting from deep wounds in their chests.

Sensing they were next, all the slavers who had weapons that could attack from a distance drew them. Wolfe launched another hyper-accelerated charge, this one taking him all over the marketplace, cutting down slavers and slashing the chains that held the slaves. His frenzied assault was prolonged by the reinforcements pouring in from every street that led to the square, but everyone who tried to stop him fell to his blade, until, some fifteen minutes later, when the square was drenched in the blood of hundreds of dead and dying slavers and soldiers, an opponent bone-jarringly parried his slash with a huge steel mace and shoved him backwards with incredible strength.

It was a minotaur, looking very much like the one who had stopped him at the city's gates, but bigger and meaner. Wolfe recognised the markings on the beast's shaggy fur as well, leading him to guess that the two minotaurs were probably related. He knew that no minotaur could be strong enough to parry an attack backed by his own magic-enhanced strength, but he couldn't dwell on the source of the minotaur's awesome power, for from the corners of his eyes he saw two more foes taking position. On the left, there was a powerful, nasty-looking, Harpy wielding a ranseur. On the right, he saw a muscular Anthropophagus, a headless being whose eyes, nose and mouth were located in its chest. It carried a long chain with a spiked ball at one end, and it had customized body-armour with the appropriate gaps for the eyes and mouth.

With a flick of the wrist, Wolfe shook most of the blood off the Phoenix Katana and brought the blade up in a high guard, using it as a mirror to see the people he'd heard behind him. Among them he saw a seven foot tall lizard-man, something he'd expected to see since he heard the claws of its feet clicking in the ground. A predatory creature by the looks of its teeth, its upper body was very humanoid, save for the fact that it was covered in scales, and its legs had the toe-walker setup like that of the bipedal dinosaur predators of old, making it capable of very quick charges. It had a net in one hand and a trident in another.

Initially, Wolfe was almost relieved to see that the remaining two were sword-wielding, black-clad Etti warriors, their near-human bodies being more easy to predict in battle. But his relief was shattered when he sensed a strange mental vibe coming off the Etti. A quick probe revealed them to be twins who had a mental link, meaning he was fighting more of a meta-foe than two separate enemies.

Wolfe took a deep breath and exhaled, letting everything he'd learned from Master Lei rush back to the surface. Master Lei had described fighting multiple foes in a situation like this as "herding chaos." There were too many variables to give a definite answer on how to survive an attack like this. Multiple attackers meant that angles, weapons and levels of attack increased exponentially, not just by the sum of the attackers. Six attackers meant thirty-six times the trouble. But there _were_ two constants. The first was to make them dance to your tune, by constantly and effectively moving, and moving in such a way that the attacker one was engaging would be in the way of at least _one_ of the others. The second constant was to attack first, and normally the prime candidate would be the leader.

In this case it was probably the minotaur, since he had been the one to step forward and parry Wolfe's attack. But since he had a source of strength Wolfe didn't understand—yet—Wolfe thought a change of tactics was in order. The easy way out would have been to multiply himself, but that was an ability that he wanted to keep under wraps as long as possible. Instead, he quickly took his left hand off his sword hilt and withdrew the telescoping staff from his belt, extending about half of it and making it seem as if he'd be employing it an off-hand weapon role designed to bat away flanking attacks of opportunity. In reality it served as a distraction, and in the split second that his foes' attentions were focussed on the extending staff, he threw the Phoenix Katana towards the Anthropophagus almost like a throwing dagger, using minimal amounts of magic to keep it straight and level. Wolfe's aim was true, and since the move caught the Anthropophagus completely by surprise, he didn't dodge.

The Phoenix Katana soared though the armour's mouth-gap, spearing its wearer like a fish. The blade immediately used its powers, immolating the Anthropophagus with its magical fire and reducing him to ashes in the blink of an eye. The move had shocked the remaining five opponents into momentary hesitation, and Wolfe capitalised on that by drawing his Spinning Slayer and throwing it at the Pinaka lizard-man behind him.

Drawing the weapon had taken precious time, and the Pinaka proved his mastery of enhanced movement magic by quickly casting his net and tangling the spinner in it. However, the spinner's momentum carried the net away, and the Pinaka made the mistake of letting his gaze follow the objects as they hurtled away. Wolfe used the opening to charge towards him, extending the telescoping staff to its full length as he sprinted forwards. The twins were ready for his move and intercepted him before he reached the Pinaka, each holding their falchions in a middle guard since a common tactic was to swipe at them from the outside, building momentum for a devastating blow.

Wolfe had no intention of letting their dreams come true, and instead stuck the staff between them, slapping left and right as he ran closer. That wouldn't have done any damage had it been a normal man holding the staff, but Wolfe's superhuman strength made them feel it even through their armour, forcing them to interpose their swords to parry the blows. Then he was level with them, dropped the staff, grabbed them both under the jaw, snapped their necks with a sudden shake and caught their falchions as they slipped from their lifeless fingers, instantly rearming himself. He then crossed the swords just in time to parry the Pinaka's trident-stab he'd instinctively been expecting.

The sudden shadow and flapping of wings told him that the Harpy would shortly bury her ranseur in his back if he didn't do something quickly, so he jumped backwards, arching his back on transforming the move into a back flip. The ranseur plunged into the ground, and Wolfe knew that the Harpy would attempt to pull it out. Without looking, he threw both falchions into the air, making an educated guess from the sound of her wings flapping and the position of her shadow on the ground. Without even waiting for the result, he dived aside again, this time because he knew he was wide open for the minotaur to attack him. He'd done it just in time, because at the same time as he'd heard the Harpy's shriek of pain, air displaced by the minotaur's mace had caressed his cheek.

Wolfe landed next to the Phoenix Katana, which was lying in the pile of ashes that used to be an Anthropophagus. He quickly picked it up and turned to face his remaining two assailants. The blade throbbed in his hand reassuringly, and he smiled. Still, he knew he was in deep trouble with his two remaining foes, whom he suspected to be the most experienced fighters. They started to circle around him, lunging and feinting constantly and taking him of his rhythm, occasionally committing to an attack that forced him to dodge, and having the partner follow up with another one to prevent him from striking back. Dispatching the first four had been accomplished within ten seconds, but this stage of the fight stretched to ten minutes, and Wolfe felt the flow of power within him starting to become erratic. He knew he couldn't maintain his power increase much longer, and to make matters worse, he was too strained to produce any duplicates. Wolfe cursed his earlier overconfidence while he racked his brain for a solution to this dilemma and scanned the arena while looking for weapons of opportunity. The pile of ashes that used to be the Anthropophagus gave him an idea, and he slowly moved backwards towards that spot, making a show of breathing heavily and acting as if he were looking for a reprieve.

His foes seemed to believe it and moved with him, maintaining the distance between them. When they reached the pile of ashes, Wolfe lunged towards the lizard-man, drawing a reactionary attack from the minotaur. Wolfe evaded with another back flip, this time scooping the ashes up with his right foot and kicking it into the minotaur's eyes. The creature howled in anger and reflexively rubbed his eyes, and Wolfe, no longer in danger of a flanking attack, slashed at the lizard-man. The reptile proved his skill by actually blocking two of Wolfe's attacks, but the third one came too quickly with Wolfe ducking under his guard and twirling passed him, slashing open his opponent's abdomen as he passed. However, Wolfe didn't count on the long and thick tail barring his way, and sidestepping it disrupted the fluidity of his movement, taking away the precious time he needed to prepare for the Minotaur's imminent attack.

Indeed, the minotaur had recovered quickly, and enraged by the demise of its comrade, it charged him with an amazing burst of speed. Dodging was out of the question at that point, so Wolfe braced himself and drew on all his magic to fortify his strength. The impact again rattled his frame, but this time he held his ground. As soon the minotaur started to disengage, Wolfe dropped his sword, reached up to grab the bull by the horns and twisted with the last of his waning strength. Fortunately it was enough, and the minotaur's neck emitted a sickening crunch as it broke.

Wolfe was exhausted. His limbs felt like lead, and the nimbus of energy around him slowly faded away, yet it seemed like the battle had yet to begin, because looking up to the rooftops of the buildings surrounding the square, he saw hundreds of soldiers loading their crossbows and aiming at him. He still had a little energy left, maybe enough to project a banishing field that would repel the arrows for a while. He sheathed his sword and prepared to make a gesture of surrender.

Then, suddenly, something slammed into his back, and half a heartbeat later he was in the air, already outside the city walls. He only knew two beings who were able to move that quickly, and only one who was prone to rescuing people in this manner. Less than a minute later they were soaring over the impenetrable marshlands that began twenty miles to the south of Astirian. Another minute or so after that, his bearer began the descent, manoeuvring to avoid the branches of giant mangroves as they flew lower and lower. Finally they touched down in what seemed like a hidden encampment, and the strong arm that had been wrapped around his chest released him.

"Thanks for the save, Holly," Wolfe said, as he turned around and looked into a seventeen-year-old Holly's surprised face. Then his legs refused to carry him any longer, and a wave of exhaustion swept over him as he felt himself falling to the ground.

* * *

X

* * *

**REALLY IMPORTANT PLEASE READ**

**Author's Note:** This question isn't directed towards the people who review every chapter or every few chapters. I realise that the last few chapters have been so called 'slow chapters', and that this might contribute to the increasing lack of feedback after Chapters 9 and 10. _Is _that the cause?

The reason I am asking is because (when I'll hopefully have written and published an original novel) I don't want people skimming past any slow chapters. I'm developing a style in which I place some tiny hints about things to come later on in the book or even in the story arc in these slow chapters, and I'd like to use it in my potential original novel. So I ask the infrequent reviewers: Are the slowness of the chapters an issue, or is it merely that you don't feel like reviewing? If so, that's cool, but please tell me this once either via e-mail or by reviewing (some people already have) that you don't feel like reviewing frequently. If you _do_ think that the slowness of the chapters are an issue, please tell me too, so I can work on it. I can't have future readers of my potential novels losing interest halfway or skimming over parts that could be important.

I'm sorry if I seem to be complaining again, but reviews are very important to me. For example, **bane **pointed out that Wolfe's behaviour in Chapter 6 was, in his opinion, out of character. While I myself, and some others among you, may disagree with this, there mere fact that **bane** thinks Wolfe was OOC tells me that I should have made more of an effort depicting _why_ Wolfe had mellowed down somewhat. When you're writing a real original novel, you can't have _anyone_ doubting the characterisations. Oh, and **bane**, the reason Wolfe wasn't so hateful anymore was because he thought that he was about to finish Yamato off and that the nightmare would be over. A sort of elation that his trials were almost over, if you will.

Thank you for reading, and now on to the reviews answers.

**lluvatar**: You were the first to reviews for this chapter. Congratulations. Even though you are exempt from answering the question above, (you review with one-worders, but you _always_ review) I don't suppose I could entice you into giving an opinion on the matter? ;-)

**Gogirl**: As time passes and Wolfe seeks the services of Rosy Palm and her five daughters more and more often, the temptation to stray will strike hard. The tactful amount of time after Galatea's death was purely circumstantial. Had Wolfe not left to hunt down her killers, he'd have jumped into bed with Heidi much sooner. He's not a saint, you know!

**StarWest45**: I used Chapter 13 to practice location-description. Sorry if it was a bit of a drag.

**Lady of Masbolle**: If you say so.

**Numba1**: I assume you loved _this _chapter.

**justn**: LOL, I'm afraid I haven't written his book.

**blah29**: Not useless at all, my friend.

**gallandro-83**: Carey is mortal now because she procreated. And is your pen-name a reference to a Star Wars character?

**Fragarach**: Keen observation.

**Styles**: The begging in the last chapter was actually a joke. The author's note in this one is to be taken seriously, though.

**Foxfur**: They had to make a _third_ movie with a geriatric Arnold to set that titbit straight, eh?

**Saint Mike**: I think this chapter answered your question. A very annoying cure! LOL

**Chloe Black**: I reckon Carey told Crystal at some point, yes.


	15. Peaceful Times

Chapter 15

**Peaceful Times**

Ginny awoke as she felt a few rays of light warm her face. She checked the clock at her bedside, noticing to her horror that it was already ten o'clock in the morning. Having pulled double duty and working sixteen hours straight, she'd been so tired that she'd overslept. Still, the extra work meant that she'd have the next day off, but that did little to ease her anxiety, since she had overslept on a very special day. However, the faint smell of bacon, sounds of activity, and her mother's voice coming from downstairs put her at ease. Glancing out the window, Ginny saw that the weather was a bit cloudy, but the weather report had said that it would clear up around noon, and since Concordia's weather was magically created, the prediction was always spot on. She slid off the bed and cast a longing glance at the empty half, which Harry had vacated at six in the morning to perform his mandatory hours of physical training, and to attend a debriefing. Then she dragged herself over to the bathroom to take a quick shower.

After the shower she brushed her long hair thoroughly, since skipping this part of her grooming would lead to a very bad hair day. Then, wrapped in only a towel she returned to her bedroom and put on a sky-blue bikini that didn't accentuate the paleness of her skin. Though she wasn't really a vain person, she took a moment to admire herself in the mirror, wearing her new bikini. It was made of specially treated spider-silk, which was often used for clothing designs intended to stretch and adapt to a shape.

The top was what the sales witch had called a triangle model. Like with a halter-top, the straps went around the back of the neck instead of over the shoulders. But unlike the halter, which had wider straps that were extensions of the cups themselves, the straps on the triangle sprung from the top's _lining_ instead. With regards to coverage, the top was also a pretty unique model, since the cups weren't connected by a thin strip of lining. Instead, a fairly broad strip of fabric fused the cups together, making the it look more like a scooped bandeau top. She had picked it because it gave just the right amount of coverage for her modest breasts. The full Brazilian-style bottom had a scooped front and back, and high cut leg holes that created the illusion of having longer legs. The design flattered Ginny nicely, since her legs were on the short side, proportionally.

Satisfied with how her swimwear looked on her, she wrapped a sarong horizontally over her chest and tied a knot on the left side. Its base colour was the same sky-blue as her bikini, with intricate silver patterns hand-painted onto it. According to the saleswoman it had been the last one in the collection, which had left Ginny a bit disappointed, for even though it was supposed to be a gift for Heidi, she'd wanted to buy one for herself too. In retrospect she shouldn't have been as surprised as she'd been when it turned out that Heidi had already bought one for herself, and she couldn't remember having heard Harry laugh quite as long and hard as he had when Heidi informed her of that fact.

In order to buy Heidi another gift, Heidi had accompanied Ginny on a second shopping trip, which was when she bought her ultra comfortable sandals with spider silk straps that didn't chafe one's feet, though this silk had been treated differently than the silk her bikini was made of. They had one strap around the heels and two over the feet, as well as a toe-piece to keep them snugly in place and prevent side to side shifting. It also had an orthopaedic arch that allowed a person to walk for hours without feeling discomfort. Ginny had bought Heidi a pair in sky-blue, but she herself had chosen a more neutral beige, which wouldn't clash with her emerald-green one-piece swimsuit and its matching sarong. She knew Heidi had four different swimsuits, each with its own accessories, but didn't feel the necessity for such a wardrobe for herself. She guessed that Heidi's affluent upbringing made them different in that respect.

Ginny went to her bedside cupboard to retrieve her wand, before returning to her vanity, next to the full-sized mirror, to do her hair. She stared at her reflection and frowned. "How should I wear my hair today?"

"Planning on getting a tan?" the vanity mirror asked in turn.

Ginny laughed. "I don't tan. I only get more freckles. Still, I reckon you've got a point."

"Naturally," the mirror replied airily, drawing another laugh from Ginny.

She decided to pile it onto the back of her head with a rolled up ponytail to make sure that her back freckled over as much as her front, so she cast a Styling Charm that Parvati and Lavender drilled into her years ago, which would made the 'do hold better. Then she slicked her hair back into a tight ponytail at the centre back of her head, secured it with a rubber band, and rolled the ponytail around the band to create a bull's eye, which she secured with bobby pins. To finish it off she placed a white seashell-shaped decorative clip in the centre. Grabbing a small mirror to check the results, and was pleased by what she saw.

"Stunning, dear," the vanity mirror agreed.

Smiling, Ginny summoned her sandals and slipped them on. For a brief moment she thought she faced a bit of a problem with stowing her wand, until she realised that she could tuck it between the folds of the sarong. Then she padded downstairs, where her children watched as her mother was putting the finishing touches on her youngest grandchild Daniel's birthday cake. Actually, her mother had baked _two_ birthday cakes, since Heidi's near constant day care efforts for of six of her grandchildren had made her an honorary part of the family. Also, as far as her mum was concerned, the fact that little Elisabeth, nicknamed 'Sissi', was related to her children and grandchildren both through herself _and_ through her late husband, meant that she was as good as a grandchild in her own right.

It was the tenth of September, eleven years after she'd left school, and nine after she'd joined the Order of Illumination. Her eldest had turned five in August, the same month in which she and Harry had celebrated their sixth wedding anniversary. Her second-born had turned three in March.

The whole family, which included her siblings and their spouses, and her nieces and nephews that weren't in school yet, had arrived in Concordia the previous day, for Danny's first birthday celebration. It had become a Weasley tradition ever since George's death. Her mother had found it necessary to extensively celebrate the first birthday of every expansion of the Weasley family, though the fact that Ginny's children were technically Potters didn't matter.

Thus the tradition started with Bill's youngest boy, Alan, who had been born a few months after George's death, and proceeded with Percy's youngest daughter Scarlett, Charlie's daughter Rose, Ron's eldest daughter Raina, then Richard and Holly respectively, followed by Ron's youngest, Christine. Today was Daniel's turn, and the happy gurgle he gave Ginny when she picked him up out of his baby chair suggested that he was eager for his first birthday party.

"There!" her mum said, looking very pleased with herself.

Ginny's stomach began to growl as she looked at the strawberry and chocolate cakes. "Oh Mum, where did you find enough strawberries? The season has been over for a while."

"Arthur sent them to me. Professor Sprout allowed him to grow a bunch of them in an unused greenhouse. Arthur got special permission from Professor McGonagall to be in Hogwarts every few days or so in the summer holidays to tend to their growth."

Ginny frowned. "Just like that?"

Her mum smiled. "On the condition that the staff got first pick when the strawberries were ripe for plucking."

"I knew it!" Ginny exclaimed. "I knew Professor McGonagall had an ulterior motive. She loves strawberries."

"What ulterior motive would that be?" Ron's voice came, startling their mum but hardly surprising Ginny, since she was used to Ron barging in at any time. Over the years the wards around their homes had been improved to such an extent that the magical screening only took a second. They had also adapted the wards to let the doors open to Ron, Hermione, Jasmine, Charlie, or Heidi, in case something needed to be fetched from the house when neither she nor Harry were available. Heidi had already made use of it to fetch fresh clothes for Richard, who seemed to have a knack for getting himself dirtier than most simple Cleaning Charms could cope with, and now Ron had used it.

"Mum was just telling me that Arthur got permission to grow strawberries in one Hogwarts' unused greenhouses. He got special permission to be on Hogwarts grounds over the summer, to tend to the plants."

"Oh yeah, Angie told me about that," Ron nodded. Then he grinned. "She also got a letter from Snape yesterday. Susie and Millie lost Slytherin thirty-one points. They would have lost a hundred each, but since it was only a week into the school year—"

"Good Lord, what did those two do now?" Molly asked exasperatedly.

Ginny struggled to hide a smile. When Susie and Millie had been sorted into Slytherin a year ago, her mother had fumed with rage, at first planning to destroy the Sorting Hat. When Angelina had finally dissuaded her from that course of action, she had settled for sending the Sorting Hat a vicious Howler. The rest of the family had also been a bit stunned at first, but as the year progressed and the girls shattered their father and uncle's record for losing points and detentions, they came to realise that the girls were—in their own way—among the better things that had ever happened to Gryffindor.

Ron laughed. "It seems they broke into half the teachers' rooms and put difficult to reverse Haemorrhoid Hexes on their toilet seats. Angelina said that Snape's handwriting was particularly erratic, so it's a good bet that they didn't spare the greasy git either."

"This is no laughing matter, Ronald," Molly said with an edge in her voice, causing Ron's laughter to stop immediately.

"I think it's impressive that they can already manage that hex," Ginny said casually, drawing her mother's ire away from her brother.

"Ginny!"

"Mum's right," Ron admitted reluctantly. "The girls have got a mean streak that Fred and George didn't have. If they keep this up, they might get expelled. Although, they _are_ clever little devils. They butter up the right teachers and keep from pulling pranks on them so there's always someone willing to come to their defence. Angie says that Remus thinks they're little angels who can do no wrong."

Ginny giggled gleefully. "Probably because Slytherin can't pass the two-hundred point mark with the two of them wreaking havoc all the time."

"Must be it," Ron agreed. "Anyway, are you lot ready to go?"

A quick glance at her children showed that they'd been taken care of, and the basket under Daniel's pram was stuffed with towels and other beach necessities, so she nodded. However, her Mum still needed to cover the cakes and prepare them for transport, so Ron designated The Wolfes' Den as the point where Heidi, the Weasleys, and Potters would meet before jointly going to the smaller of two country clubs next to the lake's beach. It had been on the verge of bankruptcy when Matt Kelly bought it a few weeks before the summer holidays began. He'd had it completely refurbished, setting up a modular decoration that could easily be changed depending on the season, or even the time of day, and that's how it became the trendiest teenagers' summer hangout Concordia had seen in decades.

Now that the summer holidays were over and the teenagers had gone back to school, it had been turned into a lakeside club once more, and with the addition of luxurious spa facilities and a very competent childcare unit who could keep children busy while their parents relaxed, it had become a popular spot for stressed parents looking to unwind. Of course, there were also lots of other wizards looking for relaxation, so it came as no surprise when Gudrun had told her that the place was already nearly booked solid until the next summer holidays. This had made her wonder what Matt had done for the management to accommodate her family. She knew that Matt had more gold than he could spend in several lifetimes, but her sober upbringing made her feel a bit uneasy about his generosity, despite the many times Matt had stressed that gold didn't mean anything if you couldn't spend it on friends and loved-ones.

Daniel's fidgeting in her arms brought her out of her reverie, and she looked down at her son. His drooping eyelids told her that he hadn't slept well enough overnight, and she decided that brief a midmorning nap might help. She shifted him in her arms so she could gently rock him back and forth.

Then she cleared her throat in preparation for a soothing song, and began singing the song she always sang to get him to sleep.

♫

_Oh Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling_

_From glen to glen, and down the mountain side_

_The summer's gone, and all the flowers are dying_

_'Tis you, 'tis you must go and I must abide._

_But come ye back, when summer's in the meadow_

_Or when the valley's hushed and white with snow_

_'Tis I'll be here in sunshine or in shadow_

_Oh Danny boy, oh Danny boy, I love you so._

_♪_

_And if you come, when all the flowers are dying_

_And I am dead, as dead as I may well be_

_You'll come and find the place where I am lying_

_And kneel and say and "Ave" there for me_

_♪_

_And I shall hear tho' soft you thread above me_

_And all my dreams will warm and sweeter be_

_If you'll not fail to tell me that you love me_

_I'll simply sleep in peace until you come to me … I'll simply sleep in peace until you come to me._

_♫_

Ginny smiled down at her son, who was now fast asleep, marvelling at how the song affected him. She ran her fingers through the black thatch of hair, thinking that it was almost as if he'd been conditioned to fall asleep when he heard the song. Hermione had told her about conditioning, and how some Russian Muggle had conditioned his dog to drool at the sound of a bell, and suppressing a giggle that would undo all her work, she walked over to the well used pram that her mother had thoughtfully brought out in advance. It would soon start getting a bit cramped for him, but the pram could turn into a pushchair with some minor adjustments. It had also carried Richard and Holly, and the pushchair setup was designed to easily accommodate an average child well into his second year. It also had a built-in one-way Silencing Charm that allowed the child to sleep peacefully, but let the parents hear the child's sounds.

While her mum finished up, Ginny quickly wolfed down a few pieces of toast and washed them down with some orange juice. Then she double-checked her mum's packing just to be on the safe side, and found that her mum had thought of everything, including the Granian milk Danny drank ever since being weaned, and the solids suitable for a child his age. Minutes later, the cakes were packed up and the Potter family was ready to go, so they left the house and crossed the street, where they found the rest of the family already waiting for them.

The family was six grandchildren light, with Charlie Junior and Arthur having started their third year, Susie and Millie their second year, and Fred his first year at Hogwarts. Amelie had started her first year at Beauxbatons. Bill and Fleur had decided to send their children there, since most of their lives had been spent in French-speaking territories with French-speaking peers. It wasn't that their English was bad, for they had mastered the language to a fair extent with their father speaking English with them, _and_ hearing their parents always converse in English—Bill's poor French was apparently restricted to pillow talk in the bedroom.

Even with the absence of those grandchildren, there were still eleven Weasleys from out of town and seven local ones assembled in front of The Wolfes' Den, creating a mass of red hair dotted with some blondes and brunettes that came from the in-laws and the female half of Angelina's ten-year-old twins, Cassidy. Ginny was especially pleased to see that Charlie Senior had been able to make it to the party. He had been granted Special Imperial Permission to commute to his Mirror Realm office in Shamballah every day, making it unnecessary for his entire family to move there. It had been a concession he'd been forced to make when Rosie flat out refused to leave her all her friends in Concordia behind. So everyday, he took the 8 AM connection from Concordia to Shamballah, and returned with the 6 PM connection for traffic from Shamballah into Concordia, unless there was a fauna gathering expedition that could keep him away for a few weeks. Those had fortunately been few and far between, though his regular duties still left him very little time off.

Then her eyes fell on Heidi, which prompted her to smile. She was wearing the same sarong as Ginny, with matching earrings in her ears, matching sandals on her feet, and a matching red haired daughter in her arms. Little Sissi was wearing a miniature version of the sarong Ginny and Heidi had, with tiny sky-blue sandals on her feet. Her eight and six year-old half-brothers were bickering over who got to push her pram. An escalation was prevented as the Kellys appeared, causing Robert to lose interest in the pram and join his future wife instead. The children were under their father's supervision, since their mother was working the first shift in the maintenance bay. In his arms Matt carried his granddaughter Oprah, who had been named after her Muggle great-grandmother's favourite talk show host, but whom everyone called 'Oopsie', which was the nickname Matt had given her to commemorate the circumstances of her conception.

Ginny sighed, hoping that the debriefing of the patrol Harry had returned from the day before wouldn't keep him for too long.

* * *

X

* * *

At a snail's pace, Harry strolled down the corridors of the Citadel towards a small room assigned to him, where he could shower, change, and store some uniforms and equipment. He was lost in thought, still pondering the problem Commander Faust had presented, even though a workable solution had been suggested.

Ever since Yamato's flight to the Mirror Realm, there simply hadn't been enough dangerous criminals to keep the Order of Illumination busy. In addition to that, no Rangers had been killed in eight years, which had allowed the Order of Illumination to recover from its losses in the previous decade much more quickly than anticipated. This had raised some question on the Order's function.

Lately, they'd busied themselves with increasingly lower targets on the threat ladder, beings that Aurors and Hit Wizards could handle without being unreasonably threatened. And while this didn't seem to be a problem on the surface, Faust's concerns really were something to think about. If the Order continued to operate this way, it would indeed only be a matter of time before the Order's help with such low threats would be taken for granted, and the world's magical governments would increasingly call upon them to deal with those threats so as to spare their own people. The problem was that the Order didn't have enough Rangers to perform those duties permanently, and even if they had, it wouldn't be a good idea to employ all of them in that fashion, since it would certainly be at the expense of the vigilance towards possible threats of the global kind.

Commander Kovalenko had coolly pointed out that they could always maintain a steady supply of compromising intelligence on the magical world's leaders, most of whom had secrets they didn't want revealed. If push came to shove, they information could be used to blackmail them into seeing things the Order's way. Owing to his gift, Harry had known that she hadn't been serious even before she cracked one of her rare smiles, but the appalled looks the other debriefing attendees had given her would bring him smiles for years to come.

In the end, Maaike de Bruijn, a Dutch Ranger, and one of the few witches in the Martial Division, suggested a realistic solution.

She'd suggested that the Order use the less than kosher politicians whose arms they had _already_ twisted in the past to deliver the message, cautioning the wizarding world that the Order shouldn't be taken for granted and called on for matters that could be solved with local resources, lest the Order be overburdened, which would increase the likelihood of someone like Voldemort, Anastasiou, or Yamato gaining a foothold. Harry hoped that it would be enough to prevent their potential problem.

"Excuse me…Harry?"

Harry looked up, finding himself eye to eye with Maaike, which wasn't unusual, since she was as tall as he was. She stood in front of the door of a changing room, holding the door half-open.

"Were you planning on changing?"

"Yeah. Why?"

She raised her eyebrows until they almost disappeared under the dirty-blonde fringe of a bold and modern hairdo, making her already angular face appear to be even more so. "Isn't your room back up the hall a bit?"

Bewildered, Harry checked his surroundings, finding that he'd indeed progressed too far down the hall.

"I bet all the thoughts in your head amount to more than a penny's worth, eh?" she asked, while scratching her forward-pointing chin in an unladylike manner.

"Huh?" Harry replied, still too perplexed to come up with a better answer.

"You look like you have a lot on your mind," she clarified.

"I was just thinking about what Commander Faust told us. I hope your plan will work."

Her broad shoulders went up and down as she shrugged. "No use in worrying about that now. It's best to cross that bridge if or when we come to it. You worry too much."

"So I've been told," Harry replied dryly. He began to turn around, when he realised that, as far as he knew, Maaike had quarters in the Citadel, which meant that she didn't need a changing room … unless she had moved out at some point. "When did you move out of the Citadel?"

She broke out in laughter, giving Harry the sinking feeling that he'd somehow made a fool of himself. He contemplated peeking into her mind, but decided to respect her mental privacy and just ask where he'd gone wrong.

"What's so funny?"

"I thought everyone in the Order would know by now that I moved out a year ago. I got Rachel Esklove's room in the townhouse when she moved in with her dark wizard boyfriend." She chuckled. "_Tom Riddle_, what are the odds…"

Harry felt really stupid. Maaike had joined the Order two years after Ginny, which meant that she'd been a Ranger for seven years, or six if the training year wasn't included. And since she was in his own division, he felt he should at least know her better, even though her patrol group always relieved his, which meant that they couldn't run into each other for four week stretches of time.

"You're worrying again. Don't! I don't mind the relative degree of anonymity I enjoy in the Order. In fact, I think it's better than being one of the pretty ones and being hit on all the time," she added with a snort, though there was no bitterness or jealousy in her tone. Her deep blue eyes _did_ betray the tiniest bit of envy, which was quite normal for someone with a healthy ego and something Harry could relate to, since the frequently captured female mental broadcasts about Matt's looks also made him wonder whether he paled _that much_ in comparison. For the most part, however, Maaike showed genuine pity for the poor girls besieged by randy male Rangers like Rolf Larsson, who, to the second of Harry's sudden realisations in as many minutes, hadn't hit on any pretty female Rangers in quite some time.

"Your remark made me think of Rolf Larsson. It made me realise that Rolf has behaved himself lately."

Maaike gave him in incredulous look. "For the Order's only remaining Mind Reader, you're pretty clueless."

"I do my best to respect mental privacies!" Harry said, feeling the onset of outrage.

"Hey, it was a joke!" Maaike said soothingly. "Everybody knows you have too much integrity to take advantage of your ability like that. But really, that you don't know about Rolf having found his paradise. I'm sure your wife knows."

Harry grinned. "We do lots of things together, but gossip isn't among them, I'm afraid. So are you going to spill or must I experience a lapse in integrity?"

Maaike beckoned him to step closer, which he did, before she said in a low voice. "Let's just say that Rolf's in a rather unorthodox relationship that many men fantasize about. One with _two women_ who also fool around together. Matt Kelly's cousin, and her housemate."

"Wendy and Padma?" Harry's exclamation echoed through the corridor.

"Not so loud!" Maaike hissed. "We don't want him to find out that we all know about it despite his best efforts to keep it a secret. You know, I'm a bit surprised that he's keeping it under wraps. Not so long ago he'd have shouted it from the chimney-pots. I guess he's finally growing up."

"You didn't happen to be around when Geo heard the news, did you?" Harry asked, knowing there was a good chance that this had been the case. Like Rolf, George Ramos was a member of the patrol group Maaike had been transferred from. The pair of screwballs worked together so well that Riyadi hadn't wanted to separate them.

"Actually I was."

"What did he say?"

"Same thing most men said: '_Lucky bastard!_' Unfortunately for him, Lilia overheard the conversation and took it the wrong way, which led to divorce number eleven."

"Ah, so _that's_ why they divorced the last time." Harry shook his head. "You know, at times I wonder how Lilia ever got through the mental stability test."

"If you think about it, all of us are a few cherries short of a fruitcake, Harry. Otherwise we couldn't do such dangerous jobs."

"Good point."

"Didn't they tell you that in Auror training?"

Harry frowned. "I know it was a bit of a motto, but they never told me. They didn't exactly go out of their way to make me feel welcome, you know."

A look of sympathy flowed onto her face, diminishing the angularity of her features a little. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to talk of the hangman's noose."

"It's quite all right. They saw the light a few years later. But how did you know about that Auror motto? Did they use it where you trained?"

"I trained in England, ol' chap. The smaller European countries don't have the experience and man-power to train Aurors, so their witches and wizards go to larger countries. Austrians go to Germany. The Swiss go to either Germany, Italy or France…and so forth. Most Dutch Auror hopefuls go to Britain, though some go to Germany, but in general the German style doesn't suit us. You and I finished school in the same year, but I waited a year after finishing school to apply, by which time the Order of Illumination had whisked you away." She heaved a melodramatic sigh. "And I'd been hoping to give you comfort in the face of the unfair treatment you were receiving, and get you to fall madly in love with me."

"You're pulling my leg!"

"Of course I am. I'm not the type to act like a desperate groupie." Maaike grinned. "And besides, I like my men a little more attainable."

"I wouldn't have been unattainable, you know. Granted, you're not beautiful, but you do have some charms," Harry said earnestly.

She looked at Harry askance. "So you're not among the men around here who think I'm mannish?"

"You're a tomboy type, and a bit more muscular than men tend to like, but you're far from mannish," Harry said, remembering something Nicolai had pointed out to him once. He'd been discussing Mary's attractiveness in a very scholarly way while working on a new Cruiser design, when Maaike walked past them in a frame-hugging body-stocking. "I've been told that your waist-to-hip ratio is close to a perfect nought-point-seven. That's considered attractive by most men."

Maaike smiled. "You happen to be right, but I hardly ever wear clothing that shows it off. Who noticed, anyway?"

"Nicolai Savin. He said you were like his girlfriend in that regard."

Her smile widened. "_Really?_ Well, telling me that the hottest man in Concordia noticed my femininity completely made my day, even if he _is_ barely of age."

"You're welcome."

"Though I'm not sure you did me a favour by inflating my ego like that. I now have half a mind to go flaunt my newly recognised femininity, which might earn me an unfavourable reputation," she said jokingly. "And word might get back to someone in England whom I have had sort of an arrangement with for the last seven years.

"Anyone I know?"

"Probably. He's an Auror. His name is Rick Cotton."

"One year ahead of me in training, right?"

Maaike nodded.

"I remember him, vaguely," Harry said, churning his mental gears to boost his memory. That's when something else occurred to him. "Say, you couldn't have finished your training. You were drafted by the Order two years after Ginny, in June. But Auror training in the final year doesn't end until September."

"Ah, _that_." Maaike scowled. "I had a difference of opinion with my superiors. I believed that unnecessary Ministry red tape hampered the Auror Division's effectiveness."

Harry joined her in her scowling. "You're right. Those so-called official procedures were created by people like Lucius Malfoy to buy them time to cover their tracks."

Maaike's expression brightened once again. "Yeah, but my protests made enough noise for the Order of Illumination to notice me, and the rest is history. My only regret is that Rick isn't just an Apparition away anymore, which would have been the case if I'd gone to work in the Netherlands."

"Well, I might have a temporary solution for that. The world's magical governments are working out a deal with us to send over a handful of people from our Martial Division to help hone some of the Aurors' skills. If I'm not mistaken, you're the eleventh most effective Combat Ranger, out of the thirty-five we have now. That's really good, considering that you've been with us for only seven years and are still Fifth Class. Now it doesn't put you on top of Riyadi's list just yet, but you're close. If one of the Ministries were to ask for you by name, I don't think he'd refuse."

"And how would I get the British Ministry to ask for me by name?"

"By talking to my brother-in-law Percy, who has recently transferred from the Department of International Magical Co-operation to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

"Is he the department head?"

"No. He used to be the Head of International Magical Co-operation, but since Magical Law Enforcement is a heavier department, he had to take one step down. He's the senior undersecretary of the department, second to only the secretary himself. If you don't have anywhere else to be right now, you could come down to my son's birthday party at Matt Kelly's country club on the lakeside beach. We can talk to Percy there."

"You'd do that for me?" Maaike's eyes were misting up with emotion.

"I wouldn't do it if I weren't confident that you could handle the job."

"But I don't have a present for your son."

"You could always send him something afterwards. Don't worry about not being welcome. Ginny and Heidi are suckers for reuniting separated lovers."

* * *

X

* * *

**Author's Note: **Thanks for your reactions. Though I hope I'll keep getting more feedback, I reckon I ought to tone down my expectations a bit.

And now on to the review answers.

**Blah29**: I'm afraid I don't follow you.

**NCDSbookworm**: As you've cleverly discerned, I needed something to set Wolfe off in a big way.

**Potterscientist817**: 140 fanfics???? I'm not dissing you, but what about a social life? Or are you really good at speed reading?

**lluvatar**: Here you go.

**Janus Aran**: QT is to thank for many elements of the fight scene. ;-)

**Catatonic Reaction**: Really? Which chapters were slow, in your opinion. I don't recall anyone complaining about it, but maybe you have a point.

**Gogirl**: Normally I'd ask you to re-read a chapter in Mind War, but in light of your previous help in my quest for feedback I'll cut you some slack and spell it out for you with footnotes and explanation. In Mind War it was revealed that Holly began travelling through time with Pecos Bill when she was twelve. She went both to the past and to the future. Her contemporary self is about eight or nearly nine years old now, and still living with Carey. So due to Holly's time-travelling, there are two of her at this point in time.

**darkguyver**: Thanks for your opinion on matters.

**Kari Lynn Cortez**: I worked very hard on that chapter, so I'm glad you liked it.

**Elric Magus**: LOL. Don't worry, you don't sound gay. I wrote that sequence with the sole purpose of eliciting the mushy feelings you've experienced. Ditto for Chapter 14. So there is no higher praise for me.

**Lipton**: That's a good point. I guess I'll save my practice for more appropriate moments.

**hootild**: Blood, guts, death, destruction and chaos, eh? :-)

**Chloe Black**: Don't hold your breath about Wolfe finding Yamato any time soon.

**Numba1**: Your review convinced me that it was high time to write another action scene in the chapter I'm writing now, since there won't be any the next seven chapters I'll be posting. Hopefully it'll still be interesting enough for you.

**Kristus Vesanus**: The answer to applies to you too.

**xntrek**: I respond to all the reviews, though the depth of my response depends on the depth of the review.

**gallandro-83**: Actually, in my experience quite the reverse is true. People tend to review less in the summer holidays. Interesting point about Wolfe, though. Maybe some people don't like the fact that I've made a character of my own so prominent.

**Furioh**: I know that tridents and nets were the armament of a gladiators who favoured distance, speed and swiftness over the protection of a helm with visor and a shield. But I don't recall seeing a trident and net wielding Lizard-Man on TV or reading a book about it. I borrowed lots of things, but this wasn't one of them.

**Saint Mike**: Glad to have been of service.

**Fragarach**: LOLOLOLOL

**justn**: Ah, so you recognised the DBZ influence, eh?

**nycgal**: 10th grade? My, how fast children grow up. ;-)

**Styles**: No, I realise that the wait isn't a problem for a completed story, but my main concern was people skipping potentially important parts.

**ObsessedwithSnuffles**: I bet you didn't think you'd see Holly again, eh?

**Nya**: A lot of time passed between EaL and WB. And _I_ think I did a pretty good job slipping in reasons for that different perspective on Heidi. To summarise it, the initial impression the canon Harry Potter crew got form Heidi wasn't really fair.

**Athena McGonagall**: Your guess is right on. Are you Military Intelligence? ;-)


	16. Lines of Communication

Chapter 16

**Lines of Communication**

Wolfe woke up with a throbbing headache, feeling utterly disoriented and completely numb all over. Illumination provided by a handful of oil lamps placed at strategic points around him, showed that he was in a tent, with a curtain of beads separating him from the rest of the world. Though a bit on the spartan side, the decoration told him that the tent's occupant was probably a woman of a humanoid race. He activated his hearing to probe the surrounding area for sounds, and while the complete silence was replaced by some murmuring, his hearing clearly wasn't up to its optimal level. Even the miniscule effort of throwing the frilly-edged silk covers off made him arms ache. However, the effort seemed to restart his body, and feeling rushed back to his limbs and skin.

_"I told you you weren't that good,"_ Jelly's accusing thoughts came. _"You didn't even have enough power left to make your escape. You're very lucky that Holly was around to save you."_

_"I don't need your nagging right now," _Wolfe replied brusquely, as he forced himself upright and swung his legs over the side of bed. His feet touched on a canvas-like surface, and he experimented by putting more and more pressure on his legs before finally standing up. His clothes were nowhere to be seen, but there was a maroon monk's robe draped over a low table, which also held the Phoenix Katana. He walked over to the table unsteadily and donned the robe, its coarse fabric causing his skin to itch. It was uncomfortable, but it would have to do. Then he stuck the sword—its mild temperature telling Wolfe that it was also recovering its magic—in a loop he'd made by twisting the rope belt once.

He was headed towards the curtain when it parted, admitting Holly and an attractive Light Elf, though the elf was less attractive than any other females of her kind he'd seen. Also, unlike the elf maidens he'd seen before, she was dressed in a brown martial uniform. However, the way she behaved and the circlet resting on her head told him she wasn't a foot soldier. She exuded an air of authority Wolfe had seen in few other beings, and her eyes shone with wisdom that Wolfe knew all too well, namely, the kind that could only be gained the hard way.

"I see you have recovered," she said.

"Hardly. But at least I'm awake. How long have I slept?"

"Nine hours. We were a bit concerned when you wouldn't awaken after you'd collapsed, but our healers assured us that it was a simple matter of exhaustion." The corners of her sculpted pink lips turned upwards. "I was afraid I would have to find a different bed to spend the night in."

Wolfe glanced at the bed, then shrugged. "You wouldn't have had to. It's a double bed."

Her smile vanished and one of her thin golden eye-brows shot upwards. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

"Whatever you want it to mean."

"Are you propositioning me?"

"I suppose that's one way to interpret it. I thought you elves liked speaking in ways that left your sentences open to interpretation."

The smile returned, this time also showing some sparkly white teeth. "My kin in the Fyrathel colony said you didn't have a sense of humour."

"My sense of humour came out of hibernation thanks to their intervention. Their web of warning made it much more difficult for my quarry to thwart my pursuit. Unfortunately he found a way to use the dense population at Astirian to shake me off."

The elf's face turned serious. "Astirian … that's something we really need to talk about later." She nodded to Holly. "Holly has volunteered to see to your needs for the duration of your stay. She'll be bringing you food and something more functional than my meditation robe for you to wear. Your other clothes were covered in blood and needed to be washed. You also needed cleaning, so Holly bathed you."

Wolfe turned to Holly, who was blushing furiously. He instinctively plucked at the robe, causing the fabric to shift and sting his skin some more. His grimace prompted another smile from the elf.

"Do you wonder how I can meditate in such an uncomfortable garment?"

"Not really. My mentor also taught me to disregard physical discomforts and put mind over matter. The problem is that I have far too much on my mind to accomplish that right now. Perhaps you could lay some of my questions to rest."

The elf nodded. "By all means, ask your questions."

"Where am I?"

"In a camp of resistance forces opposing the Duchess of Astirian."

Wolfe allowed that to sink in. When he had travelled around—though not quite_ in_—these parts, he had seen traces of traffic that suggested a large settlement somewhere in the marshlands, but since Yamato hadn't been going in that direction, he'd decided not to follow the tracks.

"We've opposed her ever since she rose to power, fifty years ago. However, things have been going rather badly for us these last few years. When news of the fulfilment of the prophecy that foretold the return of the Shamballah emperor reached this nation, the duchess had the known realm combed for expert mercenaries and trackers who could hunt down resistance fighters and allow her to completely subjugate the nation before Shamballah's influence had the chance to take root again. The resistance was never a cohesive force to begin with, but when times got tough we were fragmented even further, which decreased our effectiveness."

"And you're the commander of this resistance group?"

"Since yesterday, when we established that our leader was killed by enemy mercenaries," she said quietly, as tears began to fill her eyes. "He has led us from the beginning. I don't know how to fill his shoes."

Tears began to run down her cheeks and one sob escaped her before she regained control. She looked so hopelessly lost that Wolfe got a powerful urge to walk up to her and sweep her in a comforting embrace. But he managed to stop himself, and just in time, because her chin came up and she looked at him with eyes like warm peach-coloured topaz gems glowing with the light of hope.

"You are the answer to our prayers. You can unite the resistance and help us take back our lives and our freedom."

Wolfe raised his hands in a warding gesture. "Hey, wait a second! Yes, the atrocious situation in Astirian drove me to act, and I'd love to fight some battles with you, but—"

"Don't you realise what you've done?" The elf stepped up to him and took his hands in hers. "You've killed hundreds of soldiers and slavers by yourself. You single-handedly overcame the feared captain of the duchess' elite guard and five of his more skilled warriors."

"The minotaur?" Wolfe asked, while he quickly withdrew his hands from hers and took a few steps back, since their warmth, coupled with the sweet scent of her hair, had sent an unsettling and all-too- familiar tingle rampaging through his body.

_"Down, boy!"_ Jelly chided.

"_It's been a year and nine months, and my incubus heritage also affects me to some extent!"_ Wolfe replied defensively, before focussing his attention back on the elf.

"Yes, Rhasdogul. You killed Rasdogul, and _he had help_, but you still triumphed! No one in his right mind would question your leadership of the resistance if you assume it, and your presence as a leader will rouse the people who have been too afraid to oppose the duchess because chances of victory were too slim. We could hardly believe it when Holly told us, but then word reached us through other means a few hours ago, and the other camps must have heard about it too by now."

_"She's right, slick. Your bloody one-man show in Astirian made you a major symbol, and if you turn your back on them now you'll crush their spirit."_

Wolfe heaved a sigh of resignation. "Fine. Get me some food and some clothes, and I'll see what I can do."

The elf emitted something like a strangled cry as she launched herself at him, wrapping him in a tight hug. Both the sound and the move were most uncharacteristic for elves, judging by those he'd met before, but, taking a peek into her mind, he saw that her habits had taken decidedly non-elf accents in the decades she'd spent outside their society. She'd also been under a tremendous amount of stress lately.

The hug wasn't exactly as brief an affair as he'd expected it to be, and Wolfe was beginning to feel a bit awkward. The clothes on both their bodies did very little to lessen the feel of her softness pressing against him, and the scent of her hair blanketed any unpleasantness his senses were registering, making the itching of the robes feel like a faint tingle.

Wolfe quickly pried her arms loose and stepped away from her, bending forward slightly to prevent his lack of underwear from becoming obvious against the robes. "I thought elves only showed such familiarity to close friends. I don't even know your name."

A pink tinge appeared on her cheeks, and she demurely lowered her gaze to the floor, her manner very different from her earlier bearing. "Patrinia Elebrië of Narindion."

"It sounds familiar. I must have either read or heard something about you in Fyrathel."

"It's possible," she said, looking wary all of the sudden. "I'm _Princess_ Patrinia Elebrië, also known as … Patrinia the Plain. Elf women of royal blood are supposed to be _more_ beautiful than commoners, not less so. That nickname prompted me to leave my nation in search of a place where I would be measured by virtue rather than looks."

"Your people really helped me out, but I _did_ notice they were a narcissistic lot," Wolfe acknowledged. "And for what it's worth, the fact that you've stuck with these oppressed people for thirty years at great risk to your life earns you more of my respect that all the beauty of the pretty faces in Narindion put together would earn _them_."

"Thank you," she said, shyly accepting the compliment. "Now, may I ask your name? While Holly knows a lot about where you are from, and _who_ you are, she told me she neglected to ask you your name when you two met. It would be helpful to include that information in the messages I will send to the other camps."

"Maximilian Wolfe. Grandson to the regent of Shamballah, and kinsman to the emperor."

_"Getting a bit pompous, are we? **Kinsman**? Since when do you use terms like that?"_

Wolfe ignored the symbiont, choosing to bask in the awe both Patrinia and Holly were showing and trying to look important. But the illusion was broken by the violent growling of his stomach. "Now, about my clothes and my dinner—"

"I will get you some right away," Holly said, before darting out of the room.

"Do you still have some questions for me?" Patrinia asked.

"Loads, but nothing that can't wait. You'd best get started with those messages."

The elf princess nodded and retreated through the curtain of beads, leaving Wolfe alone in the room with nothing save his thoughts. He wondered how in the world he was supposed to lead these people he found himself amongst to victory, and how the people he cared about, in a completely different world were doing, cursing the absence of reliable lines of communication.

* * *

x

* * *

Plopping down on a stool in front of the private bar that served only their group, Hermione was glad to be off her feet finally. She'd barely had a moment to herself since the last of the guests arrived with their children, which meant the onset of dozens of party games that had to keep the children occupied for a good three hours, before they'd start the treasure hunt, which was about to begin. Separate games had been held for the preschoolers, and they too would be doing a mini treasure hunt. Fortunately, Hermione wasn't in charge anymore. Mary, Janice Faust, and Claire Montoya would take care of that.

The children from the ages ten to five were divided into four teams, this setup serving to prevent the younger children from crying foul like they would had the games been individual, with the older children winning most of the games. Hermione's idea had been to start with the four eldest children as captains, adding the younger children by age, in groups of four, and putting the eldest child of the new group in the team of the youngest of the previous group. It was a sound plan, but the children didn't see it that way. Seven-year-old Peter Faust complained about being certain to lose because he was in a team with three _girls_, and nearly everyone else wanted to be in a different team for some reason. To make matters worse, Alexander Kelly, who was a little over four and a half, complained about being stuck with the preschoolers. Overhearing his complaints, four-year-olds Inigo Montoya and Anthony Ramos also wanted to play with the big kids.

In the end, after the better part of an hour had passed, Hermione just gave up trying to convince them of the fairness of her plans and fetched their parents to lay down the law. She couldn't remember the last time she had been so relieved, when Duncan Weasley, Robert Wolfe, Michael Faust and Nathaniel Kelly were declared the winners and received goodie bags that were slightly larger than the ones the other children would get. Her relief had been short-lived, though, because Peter Faust then made a remark about the all-boys team winning, followed by disparaging comments about the abilities of girls, sparking a flaming row with the girls from all the teams.

Matt, who had stepped away from a conversation with Harry, Percy, Lilia, Gudrun—who had finished her shift a short while ago—and Maaike, a Dutch witch from the Martial Division whom Harry had brought along, was walking towards her with a smile on his face. Hermione returned his smile before he returned his attention to Harry, Percy, and Maaike, whom Hermione couldn't but compare to muscular competitive swimmers, in her sporty black one-piece bathing suit. She knew that muscle mass could make the difference between life and death for the Combat Rangers, but she didn't recall Danielle Esklove being that muscular. She also wondered why Harry had brought her along. She'd seen him speak to Ginny and Heidi about it, and they both had seemed thrilled and eager to go along with whatever Harry had suggested. Her thoughts were interrupted when Matt took a seat next to her and flashed her a wicked grin. "Rough day?"

"I'd rather pull double duty instead of three hours with a bunch of obstreperous Ranger offspring."

"Still using big words? You're far too wound up, and you can't have fun when you're like that. But I know just the remedy for that. You need an absolute royal fuck."

"Honestly, Matt, that may be a solution for you and Gudrun, but other people do have other ways to unwind. Besides, Ron's been working very hard lately, and I don't blame him for wanting to sleep at night every now and then. And mind your language, there are children around."

Matt had been staring at her with a stunned look as she finished her sentence, but his expression quickly turned to one of mirth, and a second later he started laughing so hard that he nearly fell off his stool. He had to brace himself against the bar to keep from collapsing to the floor, which prompted Gudrun to come over and check on him, shooting Hermione a questioning look. Hermione had no idea what prompted Matt's uncontrollable laughter, and she shrugged helplessly in reply to Gudrun's unspoken query.

Gudrun placed her hands on her hips and coquettishly cocked her hips to one side, tapping her foot while she waited for Matt to recover, which wouldn't be happening anytime soon. She looked away for a moment and winked in Hermione's direction, causing Hermione to instinctively turn around to see the young barkeeper, who couldn't be a day over nineteen, bashfully looking away with a blush on his face. Gudrun must have caught him staring at her in a less than neutral way, which wasn't all too difficult to imagine considering Gudrun's look, and what was wearing. Over a navy-blue bikini with a strapless top she wore a sassy, sheer, figure-hugging dress made of stretch navy-blue mesh, so short that it barely covered her bottom. Hermione had a black one just like it, but wore it as a night dress on special occasions.

"Well?" Gudrun asked again, when Matt had finally recovered.

"Well, sugarplum, it's like this. I come here and find Hermione wound tighter than a spring after her little adventure in child-minding, and I tell her that, to unwind, she needs and absolute royal fuck. Next thing I know, she's talking about how hard Ron's been working lately and how tired he is because of it."

Hermione's hopes for clarification were dashed as Gudrun in turn erupted in laughter, taking her husband with her. The couple now clung to each other for dear life as they laughed their heads off. Before she could again ask what was so funny, she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned around and looked at the young bartender, who, to her sudden realisation, closely resembled what Colin Creevey would have looked like if he'd reached that age. He held up a card with all the cocktail beverages and pointed to a name. _Absolut Royal Fuck._

She should have known! Lots of those cocktails were named after things that had to do with sex, but in her befuddled state of mind, it had never occurred to her. Her face began to burn as she realised the extent of her blunder.

Gudrun came to the rescue and dragged Hermione off her stool. "Come on, let's walk off your embarrassment."

Hermione didn't feel like getting to her feet just yet, but Gudrun hadn't given her any choice. With Gudrun's firm grip on Hermione's wrist, they walked down the beach, leaving the more crowded club area for the nearly deserted public one, which was quiet save for a few locals here and there. Suddenly Gudrun let her go and sat down on the sand, patting the spot beside to in a gesture for Hermione to sit down, which she did, glad to get off her feet.

"I need some advice," Gudrun said, moments after Hermione sat down.

"I'll help you as best I can," Hermione said neutrally.

"I asked you because you're my designated Healer, and a friend. I-It's about … well—" Gudrun stammered, her embarrassment obvious.

Hermione reached up and squeezed her shoulder. "You know I can be trusted to keep a secret, but if you don't feel comfortable. You don't have to tell me."

Gudrun nodded, and took some time to compose herself, before continuing. "You know, that problem you have with Ron being tired? I've got the opposite problem with Matt."

"Ron and I don't really have a problem. We'll have plenty of time to rest the day after tomorrow, and I'm sure my problem will be a thing of the past," Hermione said, feeling a need to come to Ron's defence. "But what do you mean, the opposite problem?"

"I mean that, when Matt isn't on a patrol mission, we have sex every day."

Hermione could barely maintain her professional mask. "_Every day_? What about if you have the night or graveyard shift?"

"Then we do it before I leave or after I get home," Gudrun said, acting like every day was the most normal thing in the world for two busy professional with daily schedules that were normally full. "Anyway, the problem is when we're both together at night, and we've the time, you know?"

"No, I don't. You'll have to explain to me why this is a problem."

"Really, do you want me to say it word for word? He's killing me! A woman can only have so many 'little deaths' every night. After four hours, and sixteen or seventeen of them, I just want to go to sleep."

With a great deal of effort, Hermione prevented herself from repeating Gudrun's statement in awe. "Right … well … okay. Err, can't he tell that you're no longer aroused when you reach that point? Doesn't that make intercourse difficult?"

Gudrun grinned sheepishly. "That's part of the problem. He knows just how to touch me, and my body seems to have a mind of its own. He can bring back my arousal quite easily. When we're finally done for the night, all my muscles ache so badly that I need some magic salts in my bath to recover for the next night." She looked down at her lap with a scowl. "But that little traitor down there is always more than ready. Anyway, I was wondering if you know a more powerful restorative I could use."

"You could always _tell_ Matt how you really feel," Hermione suggested.

"And give him the satisfaction of knowing that he's wearing me out? No way! We've always been competitive about all sorts of things. If I told him that, he'd be insufferable."

* * *

x

* * *

Ron had tried very hard not to laugh at his wife as Matt and Gudrun told the story over and over again, but seeing as it was usually _he_ who was the thick one, he secretly took a little bit of wicked pleasure from it after all. He _had_ to, since he needed to compensate for the mortification he felt with regards to a different part of Matt's story. He couldn't believe that Hermione had talked about his lack of drive!

It was a quarter past seven in the evening now. The sun was setting, and most of the family had gone home an hour ago to tuck in their exhausted children and recover from the busy day. Matt, Harry, Bill Charlie and Percy had stayed behind, though, as had George Ramos, who needed to put in a few hours of physical training the next day, but had a flexible schedule for doing so. Having recently returned from an extended field mission, Ron had the next ten days off, so he could participate in their drinking game without having to worry about working with a hangover.

Mary Kelly, the sole remaining single Esklove sister, Sarah, and three other single female Rangers who lived at the townhouse, two of them Brazilian and one Albanian, were clustered around another table. He knew Clara da Silva very well, since they still often met to play strategy games against each other. The other Brazilian witch, Carolina Marques, who had joined the Order in the Medical Division four years ago, he had got to know a bit better about a year ago. She'd been trained well enough up to the Order's standard of performance, but was partnered up with Hermione to gain some additional refinement. However, he'd noticed her long before that, because she was a beauty. Her spiralling curls only a few shades darker than her caramel coloured skin, her striking lime-green eyes, and her petite hourglass figure, had made her one of the principal goals in Rolf Larsson's quest for more women, until he landed himself in a situation where he had to deal with two women at once. The last witch at the table was Sylvana Prela, of the Diplomatic Division. She was known in the Order as the Mole Maiden, a nickname given to her due to her conservative views on male and female interactions, and a shirt-button sized, hairy mole on her left cheek that ruined what otherwise would have been a pretty face. However, she was proud of the mole and didn't want to hear any suggestions about removing it. Another thing she was known for was her ability to annoy Commander Faust for reasons that Ron had yet to fathom.

The four witches had arrived at half past four to soak up the milder rays of the late afternoon sun, and they had stayed for drinks, keeping their young neighbour company and making it a bit of a girls' evening out. Matt had bought them a round of drinks, specifically instructing the young bartender to give Sylvana a Virgin Mary and tell her the drink's name, earning Matt a dirty look when the bartender told her, and earning him another dirty look after she choked on her first gulp of the drink. But ever the gentlemen, Matt immediately sent the barkeep over to offer her another drink of her choice.

The barkeep's two visits to the ladies' table in rapid succession, when he got a closer look at Mary in a bikini, prompted the drinking game Ron found himself in. Apparently the bartender had been so taken by Mary's pretty face and other 'ample charms' that he kept glancing over at her table periodically. Mary caught him staring from time to time, but being her mother's daughter in that regard, she did nothing to discourage him. This prompted Matt to order two bottles of Fire Whiskey and seven tiny glasses, and for the last three quarters of an hour they'd been knocking back shots of fire whiskey every time Mary caught the barkeep staring at her. They had started on the second bottle now, and Ron was getting a pleasant buzz. But he wasn't so far gone that he didn't know he'd be in big trouble if they continued drinking this way.

"Lads, I don't know what Matt's domestic situation is, but I know Hermione won't be too thrilled if I stagger into our home at eight o'clock, pissed drunk."

"Ah, good point, little brother," Bill nodded. "Fleur will be the same way, and if there's one thing I don't want to deal with tonight, it's an angry Veela."

"I don't want to get divorced again any time soon," Geo sighed, and reluctantly flipped his glass over and slid it towards the centre of the table.

"It wouldn't be fair to Hannah if I got home reeking like Fire Whiskey," Percy said, and though he didn't elaborate, Ron knew what he was talking about. All the magic in the world couldn't take away a compulsion someone had, at least, not without damaging their mind. Hannah had had a bout of depression after her youngest was born, but she'd been sober for six years now.

Charlie chuckled. "Jasmine is so attuned to me nowadays that she gets dizzy if I'm dizzy. I was planning to stop after one or two more, anyway."

Harry crossed his arms and leaned back. "Actually, I haven't been drunk since I absorbed the pendant. Wolfe and I put it to the test once, and neither of us was the least bit drunk even after two bottles of whiskey, _each_. I reckon both halves want clear-thinking hosts. I could keep on drinking, but drinking alone is no fun."

"What do you mean? I'm still here!" Matt said, pretending to be hurt.

"Yeah, but you don't count."

"Wolfe … I wonder how _he's_ doing." Charlie interjected. "Jasmine is worried sick about him. Have you received any word from him?"

"Not since the last letter," Harry said, and then he hesitated. Ron knew that look very well. Harry knew something, but he wasn't sure whether he ought to tell it or not. Maybe it had something to do with the late arrival of the last letter. It had arrived three months late, and Harry had been ready to go to the Mirror Realm. He hoped that this time around Wolfe would have the presence of mind to take the time it took for the message to reach Shamballah into account. Ron sighed, deciding not to push it if Harry didn't feel like sharing information.

Matt slid his own glass away with a rueful grin. "Well, too much of this will probably hamper the performance Gudrun expects me to put on tonight. I reckon I'll stop too."

"You said that like you're not looking forward to it. Is Gudrun losing her touch in her old age?" Geo asked.

"Nah, the sex is better than ever. She's thirty-nine now, and I think she's getting to her peak."

"That's true." Percy heaved a sigh. "For us it's long gone, but they have yet to reach that point."

"So what's the problem?" Geo asked again.

"The problem is that I'm not the type who gives up when a woman is only halfway done."

"Ah, she has trouble reaching the Big O?"

"Not at all. She has lots of them, but I always cuddle and caress her just to make sure she isn't ready for more, but she always is," Matt said miserably. "It's just that, after four hours, a bloke wants to get some shut-eye, you know."

"Four hours?" Ron exclaimed in unison with his brothers, Geo, and Harry.

"_In a row_? No dozing off and starting again?" Bill asked.

Matt nodded. "Yeah, in a row—well, I'm obviously not talking about four hours of _shagging_. There's only about two hours of that, off and on."

"Only … Two … Hours…" Bill, Charlie and Percy muttered each word respectively.

"No disrespect meant towards your wife, but, how do I put this delicately—" Geo began.

"Just give it to me straight," Matt said.

"Doesn't Matt Junior get sore after two hours? And what about Gudrun? Doesn't _she_ get sore?"

"That's what I'm talking about!" Matt whispered in frustration. "Just a little bit of touching and I see a weeping welcome message, if you know what I mean."

"You _could_ talk to her about it, and ask her if you're satisfying her. Tell Gudrun how you feel, you know," Ron offered, thinking that Hermione would have said the same thing.

"Are you kidding?" Matt asked incredulously. "First of all, she wouldn't give me a straight answer if I asked her whether or I not I'm satisfying her, because women are sometimes too careful about hurting our egos with these matters. Secondly, we're competitive about a lot of things, so I can't tell her she's wearing me out. She'd be insufferable."

* * *

x

* * *

**Author's Note: **I'm afraid real life has caught up to me, and updates will slow down dramatically. As things are now, I don't expect to be posting more often than once every three weeks. Sorry about that.

* * *

**lluvatar**: Here it is.

**hootild**: I will post a list as soon all the kids are born.

**potterscientist**: You know, it would be easier to use the Author Alert feature to see which fics have been updated, instead of going through the list. It'll tell you via email when a story has been updated. I don't use it, because I'm only reading less than a handful of fan fictions at the moment. Simply don't got the time for more. :-(

**Gogirl**: Daniel as in Daniel Radcliffe? Not really. I just like the name. And yes, he is the son from Ginny's vision. Don't pat yourself on the back _too_ much, though. It's not like I was being very subtle. ;-)

**maaike-fluffy**: De email heeft je vraag al gedekt.

**Fragarach**: I thought it was time for a family gathering.

**Blah29**: Not necessary? The children of Ginny and Heidi's vision appeared. A new character that will lead in a subplot has been introduced. Even though you can't see it right now, it was an important piece of the puzzle.

**Chloe Black**: A year and nine months, yeah.

**Catatonic Reaction**: Well, for some this will be a large lull in the action. I don't have am armed conflict scheduled until Chapter 23. However, it'll be _all action_ then, both in Chapter 23 and 24.

**Lady of Masbolle**: It's purely coincidental.

**Foxfur**: And to think that once upon a time I couldn't write fluff.

**Elric Magus**: The wait is over.

**Saint Mike**: George Lucas didn't invent Wookie. (he uses a different spelling too, namely Wookiee) Wookie is the name the Native American's in Louisiana had for Bigfoot. Heck, Lucas did a lot of borrowing from various mythologies.

**Numba1**: There will be an assassination attempt later in the story! Funny that you mentioned it. ;-)

**Lipton**: Ah, you caught the reference! I was a bit disappointed that no-one caught it.

**Kristus Vesanus**: I went back to Wolfe in this chapter, so I guess that answers your question.


	17. Blessings

Chapter 17

**Blessings**

"So when are you boys leaving?" Geo was asking, when Ron and Harry stepped out of their neighbourhood's portal.

"Tomorrow night," Bill said. "The goblins don't need me to start diving for treasure until Monday, but I need the extra day to get used to the time difference with Guadeloupe. You and Hannah are leaving on Sunday, right Perce?"

Percy nodded. "Good thing Nomad Island's on Greenwich time."

"What time exactly are you leaving, Bill?" Geo asked.

"Ten o'clock in the evening. Why?"

"There's an exhibition Quidditch mach tomorrow between the Heidelberg Harriers and the Never Never Nagah, right Matt?"

Harry smiled. The Nagah had finally broken the hegemonies of the Thunderers and Warriors in Australia the previous season, and the proud owner had decided to show off his team in Concordia. Paradoxically, despite his ownership of the Nagah, Matt was still a loyal Thunderers fan, and when the Australian wizarding press caught wind of that fact and published it, Matt got tons letters from fans of various Australian Quidditch teams, praising his loyalty. Those Australians were an odd bunch!

"That's right. It starts at two," Matt confirmed. "And there's a five hour limit, since neither team wants to risk injury or fatigue. You could watch the whole game and still have time to pack."

"Five hour time limit?" Geo winced. "Lilia isn't going to like this. She was hoping to watch part of the game after work, if they were still playing."

"Tough luck," Matt said sympathetically. Everyone in the Order, and some people outside, knew how fanatical Lilia was about Quidditch. And even though George would only be the messenger, Lilia would no doubt vent some of her frustration on _him_.

Bill smiled. "Sounds like fun. My sons are always up for watching a Quidditch match. I'm not sure if I'll get Fleur interested, since there's no French team playing. She was also planning on doing some shopping tomorrow with Hannah and Angelina. Of course, I'm not sure Angelina will choose shopping over Quidditch when she hears about this match."

"What about you, Percy?" Matt asked.

"I promised Hannah and the girls that I'd go shopping with them. I'll have to pass."

"Charlie?"

"I'm there," Charlie replied eagerly.

Geo walked up to Percy with his arm extended. "If I don't run into you again before your departure, have a nice stay and a safe trip home."

Percy took his hand and shook it. "Thanks."

"I'll see the rest of you tomorrow, then," Geo said, before heading towards Upper Abaris Lane, where he lived.

"Oh, and not a word to Lilia about what we discussed at the club, all right?" Matt called after him, getting a bout of laughter in reply.

The rest of them proceeded into Lower Abaris Lane with Percy and Charlie soon peeling off to the right, and Bill and Ron walking to Ron's home on the left, directly across from Charlie's. Harry briefly waved goodbye before turning on his heel and walking a bit further into the street accompanied by Matt.

"Go get her, tiger!" he teased, as Matt turned left towards his home.

On the right, Harry saw Danielle Esklove-Hillman and her husband David sitting on lawn chairs in their front yard, accompanied by an older couple who were probably David's parents, judging from the family resemblance. They were all looking at a new nameplate mounted on the front wall. It read 'Hillman House', and Harry assumed that David and Danielle had opted to emulate their neighbours by naming their house. He knew that Ron and Charlie would be very annoyed when they found out about this, because that would make accentuate their own failures to name their homes. Charlie had tried to get 'Charlie's Castle' by Jasmine, but she had vetoed it, saying that a home's name should encompass the whole family. Harry and Ginny had decided on 'Potters' Place' about a year ago.

"Good evening, neighbours," he called out jovially.

"Ah, there he is, mother," David said, confirming Harry's earlier assumption. Though she wasn't saying it out loud, the middle-aged woman's broadcasting mind allowed Harry to discern her excitement as if she _were_. She couldn't wait to tell her friends that her son was Harry Potter's neighbour.

Deciding that it was the polite thing to do, Harry thought he'd greet them a bit more personally, and briefly contemplated whether to fly over the low wall or simply walk through it. In the end he decided to act like a normal wizard for a change and take the scenic route, opening the waist-high wooden door and stepped through, barely taking two steps before David's mother was upon him and grabbed his hand. "Osnat Hillman, delighted to meet you, Mr Potter."

"Likewise," Harry said, feeling eleven years old again. Sounds of scraping chairs and images of people swarming him flashed though his mind.

The father was a much calmer and distinguished fellow, and he briefly but firmly shook Harry's hand. "Steve Hillman."

Harry exchanged some pleasantries, and asked how long they would be staying. It turned out that the father was a broom designer looking for some fresh talent, a search that had taken him to Concordia, among other places. The mother worked as magical mishap solver for the main United States Ministry headquarters in Danvers, or Old Salem, as it was still known by the magical population. Harry politely refused a drink, asking for a rain check, before leaving the 'Hillman House' yard.

He was about to turn left and walk to his front door when he suddenly sensed that Ginny wasn't home, but across the street at the Wolfes' Den, so he crossed the street instead. The wards recognised him and the door swung open to let him in, and he quickly found Robert and Henry playing gobstones on the living room floor.

"Hi, Uncle Harry," they chorused.

"Hey, boys. Where are Heidi and Ginny?"

A sad expression appeared on Robert's face. "Upstairs in Aunt Heidi's bedroom. She started crying a while ago, so I called Aunt Ginny to come and talk to her. I think she's missing Dad again."

Harry felt really sorry for Heidi. Being exposed to the other families, complete with fathers must have been very hard on her. He rejected the idea of going up to the bedroom, knowing that he'd only get in Ginny's way. Besides, if Heidi asked him why he was there and he answered her that he'd sensed Ginny and wondered if she needed anything, it would only make things worse, since it would remind Heidi once more that other women _did_ have husbands close by. And if she asked him whether there had been any word from Wolfe, he'd be compelled to tell her that he had felt Wolfe during the night, probably because he'd been drawing on a lot of power.

Why would Wolfe have needed all that power? And was he all right? Harry would have known it if Wolfe had died, but he _had_ been able to feel the amount of strain that the power-up had put on Wolfe. Harry had never tried to harness so much power for such an extended period of time. He wondered whether it was possible to do so without hurting himself.

"Should I tell Aunt Heidi and Ginny that you're here?"

Harry gave the two boys a meaningful look. "No, boys. I think it would make Aunt Heidi even sadder if she hears that I was here looking for Ginny."

"Why?" Henry asked.

"Suppose you had a great broomstick, but lost it, and then another kid showed up with the same kind of broomstick, reminding you how much you miss your broomstick. Wouldn't you feel bad?"

"I guess."

"Well, your dad is like Aunt Heidi's lost broomstick, and if she finds out that I was here, it would be like seeing another kid with the same kind of broomstick. Only, because your dad is a person, your Aunt Heidi would feel a thousand times worse than a person would feel over a broomstick."

Henry nodded solemnly. "I get it."

Harry bent down and ruffled Henry's light blond hair. "Smart lad." Then he straightened up, turned on his heel, and left the Wolfes' Den.

He crossed the street to his own house, where he found his mother-in-law compiling a new photo album in the kitchen. Daniel was fast asleep in his pram, well within his grandmother's sight and reach, and Harry picked the moment to just stand there and stare at his sleeping son, marvelling at the resemblance he bore to himself, when he'd been that age.

Molly came to stand beside him. "His father's son, that one is."

"More than you know. He'll marry a redhead too."

"Ginny told me, but even if she hadn't, I would have guessed after seeing him and little Elisabeth feeding each other."

Harry felt a pang of regret for not having been there to see it. It had happened while he'd still been at the Citadel. Yet he realised that in spite of missing out on that event, he was truly blessed. At least he'd been around to witness the birth of his son, while Wolfe missed his daughter's. Harry smiled, remembering how Ginny had climbed out of bed only minutes after delivering Daniel to coach Heidi, who had been having a decidedly more difficult time giving birth to Elisabeth. Ginny had stood by Heidi's bedside, holding her hand while expertly cradling a nursing Daniel with the other.

He couldn't imagine how Wolfe coped with the knowledge that he was missing the lives of three of his children, while he desperately sought to rescue the fourth one.

* * *

x

* * *

By the healers' orders and Patrinia's insistence, Wolfe had taken things easy and remained in her tent for the rest of the previous day, spending the hours after his meal studying maps and whatever report logs and history scrolls the rebels kept, hoping to get an inkling of how they operated. More importantly, he'd wanted to find out how the duchess had managed to gain and retain the supporters that she inevitably had to have, since it was impossible to keep the _entire_ population in line through terror. Patrinia had everything brought to the main area in her tent, beyond the curtain of beads, which was where Wolfe had spent the next few hours catching up on a few decades of local events, before finally going to sleep.

It was unclear how it all started, but the slavery he'd seen in Astirian was both cause and consequence. A scroll written by a local philosopher—some of its contents being unverified speculation—still painted a very likely picture on how the duchess and her early cohorts had sewn seeds of discontent, driving people to yearn for more, and take the land and resources used by others. When the contested resources had completely been reshuffled, the power hungry had no choice but to look outwards for new conquests.

The first ten years had been tumultuous, but things had settled down somewhat in the second decade. In the last three decades, the early victors comfortably lived off the efforts of the early vanquished, and the recent victors of the expansion waves kept selling the recently vanquished as slaves. The early victors now made up the upper and upper-middle classes of society, and would probably be quite keen on maintaining the status quo. Like the author of the scroll, there were _some_ souls among the upper and middle classes in Astirian with the innate nobility and intellectual capacity to see and define the wrongs in their society. However, the outspoken ones had all been silenced quickly by a very efficient secret police, which was also responsible for keeping any upper class dwellers from getting any ideas of attempting to surpass the duchess herself.

In the 'newly colonised' regions, the duchess' agents still fostered mistrust between individual towns and villages to this day! Only people from certain races were allowed to live in certain towns, giving the agents even more tools to foster mistrust, by adding xenophobia into the mix. Direct trade between individual towns and villages was 'strongly discouraged' through various means, lest they develop better relations and overcome the carefully cultivated mutual mistrust. All trade occurred in towns sanctioned by the duchy, where the tensions and mistrust could be maintained by the duchess' officials. However, the main advantage and purpose of the centralised trade hubs, was that they allowed for easy monitoring of all transactions, which in turn made levying taxes on those transactions much simpler. And while the traders weren't all that happy about the additional taxes, the officials—ducal agents always native to the relevant traders' own towns—kept parroting that it was better than being ripped off by the inherently deceitful traders from the other towns.

When direct trade _had_ been attempted, entire caravans had been completely and utterly destroyed by mysterious raiders—actually ducal troops tipped off by spies within the towns. After the first few 'incidents,' the greedier and more resourceful officials conceived the idea of ducal escorts, which would protect the caravans, for 'modest fees'. What irony! The people were extorted, but _thanked _their extortionists for it. Basically, the duchess had executed a perfect divide and rule scheme.

The digestion of the information and inner outrage he'd been feeling would have kept him awake through the night, had it not been for an exceptionally beautiful, blue-skinned Jann girl named Faísha, who had soothed his aching muscles with restorative ointments, worked in with a deep tissue massage that had relaxed his body completely but tensed a certain other part of him. Her seductively delivered yet very direct question on whether she ought to take care of _that_ tension too, had prompted _him_ to ask why she'd ask such a thing. Just before sleep overcame him, he heard her say that she used to be a slave-girl trained for that very purpose before she escaped and was taken in by some rebels who recognised her talents and taught her some healing arts.

Now, both Faíshaand Princess Patrinia were sitting in front of him, surreptitiously trading scowling looks that seemed universal to females of all humanoid races. Wolfe knew that he was fairly attractive to the opposite sex, which in the past had also led to similar situations, but this was ridiculous. Both women should have known better!

_"Their romantic yearnings may not be completely due to your recently acquired legend-status, Max."_

_"What do you mean?"_ Wolfe mentally asked the symbiont while he kept chewing on a piece of meat that tasted vaguely like pork.

_"I believe that's Tebo you're eating, and I mean that spending so much time in a magical world is bringing your demon blood closer to the surface, no matter how thin it is."_

_"Are you sure?"_

_"About your food?"___

_"Very funny.__ You know damned well what I mean,"_ Wolfe thought, taking a bite out of a bread-like substance.

_"Hey, a symbiont needs to have some fun too, and tormenting you will be my only source of pleasure for the duration of my stay. Unless you decided to part with your decision to remain celibate. As I've shown you with the food, I can tap into your senses and share your pleasure."_

_"Tough luck.__ I won't cheat on Heidi. Anyway, answer the question."_

_"Oh yes, the demon blood.__ Well, I'm afraid so, lad."_

That meant that not cheating on Heidi had just become a lot more difficult.

_"Will it affect my libido as well?"_

_"Any more than it already has? I can't be sure, but I don't think so."_

_"Well, that's something, then. Of course, it would be easier without the added temptation."_

_"Sorry to be the bearer of bad news,"_ Jelly said genuinely.

Wolfe washed down his breakfast with a golden liquid that tasted like very sweet milk. _"Don't worry about it. At least you've given me a chance to prepare. By the way, what did I just drink?"_

_"Qoi milk.__ Brace yourself for the rush you're about to feel."_

Before Wolfe got the chance to ask him what he was talking about, a pleasant burning feeling spread through him much like how whiskey warmed the stomach, only the warmth was spreading through his muscles, obliterating the slight lingering ache and leaving him feeling completely energised. "Wow!"

"Did you like it?" Patrinia beamed at him. "I milked the Qoi myself."

"What does a Qoi look like? I've never seen a real one, nor any drawings, in my time here."

_"I can't offer instantaneous translation if you don't know what it is called in your world,"_ Jelly said.

"Describe it," Wolfe said to Patrinia.

She thought about it for a moment. "Well, it is a grazing beast, about half as large as an Abraxan—you know what that is, right?"

Wolfe nodded. Since he'd known that before he adopted Jelly, the local name for Abaraxan had literally been lost in translation.

_"I could still tell you. You never bothered to ask the names of the things you've seen in your realm."_

He mentally shushed the symbiont and nodded to Patrinia. "Yeah, go on."

"It has golden antlers, and bronze hooves, and—"

"Sounds like a Ceryneian Hind," Wolfe said. "They existed in my realm until about three hundred years ago. Anyway, thanks for the milk. It was just what I needed to get me started."

Patrinia blushed. "You're welcome."

"So what's next on the agenda?" Wolfe asked, as he got up and slid the Phoenix Katana through a loop in his belt.

"You will be presented to the people outside, and the leaders from the other camps. Holly flew them in overnight." She drew the flap that covered the tent's entrance aside and gestured for him to step outside. He did so, and for the first time he got a good look at the marsh.

Through the thick wisps of morning fog he saw several adjacent islands with tents and huts on them, but he couldn't see beyond them. Turning around, he could see two other tents beside Patrinia's on their island. On the edge of their island, half on land and half in the shallow water, he saw one of the enormous mangroves he had seen flashing by during Holly's descent. It was twice as tall and thick as a baobab tree, and some fairly steep stairs crept along the trunk until it reached a platform near the top. That was where Patrinia led him to, for there was a sturdy suspension bridge made of ropes and planks to walk on, connecting that platform to another one on a different treetop.

With Patrinia in the lead and Faísha bringing up the rear, Wolfe spent the next fifteen minutes walking from platform to platform over a dozen bridges. Occasionally he could see the tops of tents and huts poking through the fog, and he heard some movement below him, but the camp seemed fairly deserted until they reached a platform which seemed to be the head of a larger bridge that was supported by massive pylons. His enhanced hearing allowed him to pick up hushed murmurs in the distance, and the volume increased over the next twenty minutes, as they crossed more of the large bridges and got closer to their destination.

Finally they reached a platform where Patrinia led him down a flight of stairs again, and at the bottom there was an island with a massive stone causeway that disappeared into a wall of fog, which swirled in a way that made it evident that it wasn't a natural phenomenon.

"Why the magical fog cover?" Wolfe asked, while they marched onto the causeway.

"It isn't a cover. It is the result of all the fog from the area we are about to enter being forced outside it. This is always done when an assembly is held, so everyone can see the one who is speaking," Faísha explained. "But when there is no assembly, the fog is allowed to drift within."

Soon they ploughed into the fog, and Wolfe remained close to Patrinia so as not to lose her in the densest cloud of fog he had ever been in. They kept on walking, and after a while Wolfe noticed that Patrinia's gaze angled downwards, following moss-green painted dots on the cobblestone surface, which explained how she was able to walk in a straight line in the fog. Meanwhile, the murmurs had been getting louder and louder, and Wolfe knew there had to be several thousand people on the other side of the fog, located less than two hundred yards away now, give or take fifty, due to the effects of acoustics. Ten steps or so later they were out of the fog, and Wolfe saw a sight that stopped him dead in his tracks and took his breath away.

At a distance of a hundred yards there was an enormous entrance pavilion that measured at least two hundred and fifty yards wide. The roof over its centre was a curved dome reminiscent of the Taj Mahal, and two similar but smaller domes covered the rest of the building. It was an elaborate gateway to whatever lay behind the walls that flanked the pavilion, spanning roughly another seven hundred yards in either direction. Portions of five towers rising over the twenty-foot high walls were the only structures Wolfe could see from his vantage point. However, he also saw the same type of enormous mangrove trees flanking the sides of the compound at regular intervals, and the size of these hinted that the ones he had recently seen were mere juveniles. The specimens he saw here stood at least _four_ times as tall as the tallest baobab trees—as far as he could see—for their tops disappeared into the swirling fog above, though the fog was much thinner there, even having a few sizable gaps in the centre which made excellent natural skylights. He realised that whatever magic was accomplishing the expulsion of the fog from the compound and its immediate surroundings also took illumination into account.

Glancing sideways through the gaps in the causeway's stone balustrade, he saw that the causeway crossed a moat, though the fog obscured exactly how wide that moat was. Wolfe saw roughly a hundred yards of water from the wall of fog to the opposite shore. And taking into account the size of the compound, he came to the conclusion that it was a city.

"Odd place for a city … these marshes. Who built it?"

"Floriath was built by the mortal children of the caretakers, when they were still as strong as Holly and as long-lived as the elves," Patrinia said. "But these lands weren't always like this. The marshlands were formed through magic, to guard secrets that are said to lie within the Temple-City. But that was before the time of any living elf. Anyway, a few dozen druids were all that remained when we found it."

"When we were _allowed_ to find it," Faísha corrected. "No one can come into this enchanted marsh without the druids' consent. The trees can sprout long vines with thorns that rip intruders apart. Many of the duchess' flying scouts trying to find us met their end by flying too low."

"Why were you _allowed_ to find it?"

"Through Holly's efforts in the past," Patrinia continued. "She and her companion's ability to ride the winds of time in the Immortals' Circle back on the Oqula continent allowed them to be present three decades ago, when the many resistance fighters were looking for a safe haven. The forest's magic recognised her thick caretaker blood, allowing her unchallenged passage through the marshes, and the druids welcomed her when she reached the city. She convinced them to abandon their isolationism and mount at least a passive resistance against the duchess by giving the resistance fighters shelter."

"Only non-fighting refugees, mostly the elderly and the children, live in the City-Temple. For the fighting forces, the city is still off limits, unless these have severe injuries that need attention, or for times like these, when a general assembly is called," Faísha said.

"Because of their pacifism?"

"Yes."

"Well, I'm not forfeiting my sword," Wolfe grumbled.

"That won't be necessary. And even if it had been so, I have a feeling an exception would have been made for you," Patrinia said.

"Why?"

"Because they know you have some half-caretaker essence inside of you. I spoke to a druid yesterday, and she told me the forest alerted them as soon as Holly bore you in."

They fell silent as they crossed a drawbridge in front of the pagoda. Being this close, Wolfe noticed that it had three passages large enough to accommodate animals as large as Re-ems, and many smaller passages for humanoids. He was about to comment on the poor design with regards to defensibility, when he remembered the enchanted forest surrounding them. If someone could overcome whatever the forest threw at him, a defensible gate wouldn't stop him.

Upon entering the pagoda, Wolfe marvelled at the vast numbers of bas-relief carvings, depicting events that had transpired centuries, or even a millennium or two ago. There were also loads of sculptures, either in niches or standing in open spaces. He also saw a gargoyle that proved his earlier assessment about defensibility partially wrong, the wrong part being that the city had no defences. Quickly looking for other gargoyles, he immediately spotted a few, each of their mouths containing thorny vines that twitched like brown tongues. However, his earlier conclusion that it wouldn't stop someone who could get past the forest still stood.

With Faísha gently nudging him along, he didn't have much time to stand around and take in the architecture, and soon they passed through to the other side of the pagoda, where another awe-inspiring sight awaited him, again stopping him in mid-step. The five towers stood on the uppermost tier of the temple complex. It actually resembled Concordia a bit, with walls separating each tier from the other. The temple's inner walls were relatively low, so they didn't obscure the terraces and small buildings arranged on the first and second tiers. The outer wall being about five hundred yards from where Wolfe now stood, so vast was the area lying between the outer walls of the temple proper and the city's outer walls.

The temple's outermost walls spanned about six hundred and fifty yards from side to side, as near as Wolfe could tell, leaving plenty of space on either side, most of which seemed to be covered by crop fields and botanical gardens. There were also a few crop fields and gardens in front of the temple, spanning three quarters of the space between the temple and the pagoda, and judging from the plants growing on them, Wolfe estimated that the produce could sustain about three thousand beings, provided that they all consumed roughly as much as humans did.

When Wolfe finally looked down at the area immediately in front of him, he saw a crowd of at least twice that number of beings packed into the remaining space. It amounted to half as many square yards of free floor space as there were people, after subtracting the space taken up by a dozen or so stone barracks, which also had people standing on their roofs. The ones up front lined the cobblestone path that led up to the temple. All of them were completely silent, and every pair of eyes were focussed on him.

Wolfe saw children in dirty tunics, tough and gritty-looking males, and females in coarse dresses that seemed to be woven from whatever fibres they could find. Most of them were either Meidel, Etti, Doalun, Dwarf, and Dait, but there were some others among them. He was surprised that the Etti were the largest group, since most of the affluent he had seen in Astirian had been Etti. But regardless of race, all of them had the same drawn countenance of someone driven into a corner with no hope of escape, but still having a determination to go down fighting. Whatever happiness any of them had ever known was paying for the excesses in luxury of the people in Astirian. And all of them were looking at him expectantly, as if they were waiting for him to do something.

He suddenly realised how Harry must have felt as a champion for the Triwizard Tournament. Well, having Harry's memories, he already knew, but experiencing a similar situation for himself made it easier to appreciate. Of course, no one had expected Harry to save their lives during the Tournament. Everyone, save Wolfe's great-great-grandfather, had thought that Harry's role had already been played. But the expectation on their faces was the same, and it was unnerving. So much, in fact, that Wolfe even failed to make his lips form a small, encouraging smile.

Scraping together some resolve, he raised his hand into the air, twitching it into a semblance of a wave. For what seemed like an eternity, nothing happened, and just when embarrassment started to creep up on him, a single cheer shattered the silence, followed by loud clapping. His enhanced hearing allowed him to quickly locate the source, and among the mass of people he quickly spotted Holly's mane of messy black locks. Beside her stood Pecos Bill, still clapping loudly, and that broke the crowd's hesitation. A wild roar cascaded through the city, and an avalanche of sound slammed into Wolfe.

_"I think we need to start heading towards the temple,"_ Jelly urged.

Wolfe puffed out his chest and hustled down the stone steps, before striding down the path that linked the entrance pagoda to the temple. Feeling a surge of self-confidence and inspiration, he smoothly drew the Phoenix Katana, channelled the necessary magic that allowed him to move with superhuman speed, and darted down the path, taking the sword through intricate manoeuvres so quickly that he knew it would look blurry to his spectators. Then for a grand finale, he pointed the sword at the sky and had it spit a fireball the size of a hot air balloon. The startled crowd briefly pulled back, then resumed cheering with magnified ardour.

_"You just **had** to do that, didn't you?"_ Jelly commented exasperatedly.

_"Why not give them a first-hand taste to add to the stories they've heard?"_

As Wolfe got closer, he could see that many of the males who at first had appeared unarmed actually carried at least a small weapon in a sheath at their waist. Many more were clearly armed for war. The females all bore themselves with dignity, though Wolfe felt they were all putting on brave faces for their families. Wolfe knew that even the hardships _he_ had experienced in his life fell short of what these people had been through. Most people here under the age of fifty had never known a time when they _hadn't_ been persecuted. Then there were the few children, who gazed up at Wolfe with inquisitive glints in their large eyes. All of them were well nourished, telling Wolfe that the mothers put their children's health first, sometimes at the expense of their own.

The crowd fell in behind Faísha and Patrinia as they passed, the cheers slowly diminishing to murmurs of regular conversation as they drew closer to the temple. He could still feel their eyes on him, though, and he began to watch where he walked on the uneven floor, so he wouldn't stumble. But he couldn't keep it up for long, for as they drew ever closer to the temple, the splendour of the temple caught his eye again. A few healers rushed past him, and began shouting at the crowd to stay back and not disturb the hospital.

"You can see all of the temple later," Patrinia, who was now walking closer to him, whispered in his ear. "Right now we have to go straight ahead, through the hospital. We could go around it, but it would take too much time."

He paused to let her take the lead, and she took him into a cruciform building with four rooms. About half the beds were occupied by sick and wounded beings, being tended to mostly by relatives who were following the instructions of a handful of healers who rushed from bed to bed. He briefly slowed his gait to survey the proceedings, and he was about to continue on his way when an old Etti crone barred his way. Her wrinkled features betrayed a sizable dash of Dait blood. Even though she no longer appeared to have a tail, her bare hands and feet didn't have sharp claws, and she didn't have the downy body-covering fuzz that was typical to her ancestor's race, the small nose, overlarge ears and yellow feline eyes were more than enough to identify that part of her ancestry. Even the thin and malnourished sleeping child in her arms, with its face buried in the crook of her wrinkly neck, seemed to be too heavy a burden. Their condition—especially the child's—told Wolfe that they were probably recent arrivals in Floriath, for he hadn't seen any malnourished children outside.

"Great warrior marked by the immortals!" she cried hoarsely. "Please hear an old woman's pleas."

Wolfe looked at Patrinia and Faísha, hoping that they'd give him a sign or hint that would tell him what this was all about, but they stood back with blank expressions on their faces. Word about his Nalhati connection had spread somehow, and he was clearly on his own. "I'll listen, but I can't promise to better your situation. At least, not anytime soon."

"I seek not my own betterment, only hope for this parent-less child. My granddaughter cared for him before we escaped our former captors, but she was killed during our flight to the marshes. I do my best to care for him, but I am old and weak. Legends speak of mortals blessed by the caretakers. Please, bestow your blessing on this boy, for he needs more than my efforts can give. Please, I beg you…"

Wolfe was aware that everyone's eyes were again on him, awaiting his next action. He was at a complete loss. He knew all about the power of words and Nalhati blessings, but he was no Nalhati. He couldn't transfer magic by touching people, like Holly could. He didn't even have a working wand, for wands in the Mirror Realm needed the additional component of flawless gemstones mounted on their tips to make them work well. That was why magic in the mirror realm was so subtle, and blood magic so popular. Very few common Etti could afford magic wands and staffs. Those who _could_ were usually people who manufactured magical artefacts, their guild sharing a limited number of wands.

Suddenly he got an idea. He knew he had it in him to transfer some of his magic to another being, but he needed something that could channel the magic. He went down on one knee and stuck his finger down the side of his boots. He soon found the very thin cut in the inside lining. His fingers slid into the secret compartment and extracted the feather Ginny had plucked from her own wing and given to him. If he used its tip to prick his finger, and wrote a runic charm for protection on the child's forehead, in his own blood, it would be blood magic.

_"It might work, but you realise that other people will come hounding you for blessings if you bestow one on this child,"_ Jelly warned.

Wolfe looked at the boy's thin legs moving, as he uneasily stirred in the woman's arms. _"That's a risk I'll have to take, then."_ Then he looked up at the woman. "Please sit down and turn the boy so he faces me."

The woman did so, and the feather slipped from Wolfe's fingers as he took in the boy's appearance. He saw none of the slightly exotic features Etti had. This boy was a full-blooded human who bore an uncanny resemblance to _him_ when he had been that age, and though he looked a bit different than the image Wesdagor had shown him after he had arrived in the Mirror Realm, the difference was due to age. The boy looked to be between three and four, which was how old Westley would be.

He immediately locked his gaze with the woman's and searched her mind, but there was no falsehood there. Wolfe shook his head, wondering if this was really Westley. Even hours before reaching Astirian, he had seen Yamato's familiar footprints accompanied by a smaller set of footprints belonging to a child. Searching his memories for an explanation, one suddenly exploded to the front of his mind. A few weeks after meeting the Light Elves, he had noticed a subtle change in the child's scent. Could Yamato—with his freedom of movement suddenly restricted by the elves' web of warning—have swapped Westley for an Etti child about the same age, making it wear Westley's dirty clothes saturated with his scent? It _would_ be just like Yamato to go to these lengths to deny Wolfe his son, just in case Wolfe were to catch up to him. One thing was certain, though. It was nearly impossible that this was an elaborate ploy of Yamato's to distract him.

Wolfe quickly checked the awakening boy's thoughts, and detected no outside influence like a parasitic personality or a control maggot. This made sense, since children under three were known to make poor hosts for either. Moreover, Yamato had been unable to build up the necessary resources while he had been on the run, so it was very unlikely that he could have bred new maggots or create a new parasitic personality during that time.

Taking a deep breath, Wolfe prepared himself for the final test. He retrieved a picture of Yamato from a pouch and showed it to the boy, who was rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. The boy looked at the picture, and recognition lit up his thoughts. Wolfe released his breath, crumpled the picture and pulled his son into an embrace.

* * *

x

* * *

**lluvatar**: Here it is.

**StarWest45**: It's not really a competition. Just more of a miscommunication. ;-)

**Gogirl**: Fortunately real life postponed itself at least for a little while. I was able to do more writing than I thought. And before you start protesting that Westley's reappearance contradicts what I revealed in my answer to Chloe Black, allow me to point out a subtle difference. I specifically said that Wolfe wouldn't find _Yamato _any time soon. :-)

**Athena McGonagall**: You swear? Well, I'll hold you to that oath.

**Lady of Masbolle**: Yeah, there's something special about Sissi and Danny.

**hootild**: Four hours is a long time.

**Saint Mike**: You have no idea.

**Fragarach**: Yes they are.

**Blah29**: Killing Malfoy was relatively easy. However, (as I described in the narrative) had Malfoy had more time to assimilate more people, he'd have grown too powerful for even phoenix to stop. So don't underestimate the threat he posed.

**Lipton**: That means a lot to me. Thanks.

**Numba1**: What evil princess? Or did you mean the evil duchess?

**Elric Magus**: Me too.


	18. Proof of Life

Chapter 18

**Proof of Life**

****

_Harry,_

_If everything went well, my proof of life should have arrived early this year, since Holly has assured me that she could reach Shamballah in about four hours if she flies at top speed. (Yes, your eldest daughter.) You don't know how difficult it is to interact with her while knowing her fate. Still, I imagine she must have gone through the same thing for me in her future. I'm not planning on erasing her memory, (not that I could do that anyway, without a working wand) so it can be assumed that she kept the secret from us in our past. Which leads me to my next point._

_I plan on telling her where and when to find you. You never knew how exactly she found you, right? Well, if it is up to me, it'll be because I'm the one who told her. I'm the only one she knows who can give her an accurate window as to your whereabouts in time and space, and I decided to exercise that knowledge when she comes back. I promised her I'd tell her, since it was the only way to prevent her from going through the Umbral Gate and finding you herself. And while you might have wanted to see her again, I felt that allowing her to do that would raise the odds of her finding out about her death to an unacceptable level. If you disagree, please accept my sincerest apology. Having played your own part in time when saving your godfather, I'm sure you can appreciate the irony of my decision not to tell her. And, of course, we can't forget the mess with the Cauldron Clone. But Holly's situation is different, and I didn't want her to go back in time knowing that she'd have to give up her life, even if it meant your happiness. _

_On another note, I want you to watch out for my son. Westley nearly wet himself the first time I hugged him, because Yamato did his best to brainwash him into thinking that I'm an evil man who would eat him alive. Apparently he also tried corrupt my son by encouraging violent behaviour, but fortunately Westley seems to have too much of Galatea's gentleness inside him for that conditioning to have taken root. However, even though Holly convinced him of my good intentions and got him to listen to his real name, he is still a very confused little boy. It's a good thing that Heidi speaks Japanese. It'll ease the transition for Westley, because aside from a few words from local languages, he only speaks Japanese._

_Now you're wondering why I haven't returned.__ In a nutshell, I tracked Yamato to a place called Astirian, where I encountered an appalling situation. My initial plan was to keep to myself and focus on finding Yamato__ but a very disturbing event made me lose my cool and lash out at the slavers and soldiers defending the established authority. I killed a few hundred of them, but by the time I was running out of juice there were still reinforcements pouring in, which is where Holly comes in. She whisked me off to safety and took me to the largest resistance encampment, where I found Westley._

_I believe the Higher Powers were trying to tell me something. I don't think it was a coincidence that I was rewarded with Westley the moment I set my desire for revenge aside. That's what sealed my decision to fight with the resistance. I was fairly certain that I would have done so even before I found Westley in their camp, since my rampage in Astirian has become the stuff of legends, and the resistance needs a legend to unite them against the Duchess of Astirian's regime._

_I'm fairly certain that I'll find Yamato sooner or later, though I'm banking on later. He and the duchess seem like kindred spirits to me, and he's probably offered her his services. A small part of me hopes that she did my job for me and had him executed, but I know him well enough to realise that he's probably convinced her of his value. He knows who I am and what my capabilities are better than anyone in the Mirror Realm, and the duchess is too intelligent to disregard that._

_Anyway, I know my decision isn't fair to Heidi. In my letter to her I told her that she needn't go out of her way to remain available to me. Though I doubt that she'll give up on me, in case she does, please probe the man's thoughts to make sure that he doesn't have any skeletons in the closet. You can't be too careful. Heidi's diplomatic training taught her enough about human behaviour to recognise the bad ones, but there are some things that can only be spotted by looking into the mind._

_I'll keep sending letters once a year. Perhaps more, if I have something really exciting to share. _

_Max_

Harry peeked over the edge of his letter and looked at Westley, who was allowing himself to be dragged over to the toy chest by Buttercup Kelly and Holly…his second daughter by that name. While he would indeed have liked to see his eldest daughter again, Wolfe had been right to dissuade her from trying to come to the Earth Realm. It would have led to too much confusion.

He'd been very surprised when Ironheart personally showed up with Westley and the letters, and wondering how Heidi had taken the news that Wolfe wouldn't be returning soon, Harry looked through the closed kitchen door. She was crying into Jasmine's shoulder, and Harry felt a flash of pity traverse his thoughts. He had a feeling, though, that Heidi would never give up on Wolfe, even if it meant celibacy for the rest of her life.

"Word from Max?" Nicolai's voice asked.

Harry turned around to face Nicolai, who had grown into a muscular six-foot-four house of a man, the bear-wrestler in his ancestry obvious. He was also very hairy, causing his fiancée to affectionately call him 'my caveman' from time to time. Indeed, many people had dismissed him as a hairy but handsome brute with brawn but no brains … until he started talking. He carried his seventeen-month-old daughter effortlessly on his thick forearm, and allowed her to playfully scratch at the day's worth of stubble on his face and throat with her tiny fingers.

"Yeah. He found his son, but not Yamato."

"I know. Grandfather sent word as soon after Holly spoke to him in Shamballah. He didn't say anything about letters, though. It must have slipped his mind in face of the more worrisome tidings Holly brought."

"Wolfe said something about an appalling situation in Astirian."

"That's what I meant. It's a good thing that Max is dealing with the situation, because even Holly's brief description of the situation leads me to believe that the current Astirian leadership had plans to invade Shamballah itself within a few years. With the necessity for expansion, it would have been inevitable. It would have been a piece of cake too, since Shamballah had no standing army. The bulk of them are pacifists." Nicolai shook his head.

Harry frowned at Nicolai's disapproval. "Isn't that a commendable goal?"

"In theory, yes. However, for pacifism to work, everyone would need to be a pacifist. Certainly, it has worked to achieve some political goals in the Muggle world, but even the peaceful resistance in India and South Africa only worked because of the presence of mass media that could feed world-wide public outrage, inviting external pressure for change. If mass media hadn't existed yet, Gandhi and Mandela would probably have quietly disappeared before their movements could gain momentum, after which the peaceful resistance would likely have become violent … but I digress. If not everyone is a pacifist, in times when resources are limited and conflict becomes inevitable, those who are pacifists are merely easy pickings for their neighbours who _aren't_."

"So pacifism is unnatural?"

"Well, it _could _work. It works most effectively for the bonobo apes. They avoid or settle conflicts with pleasurable sexual acts. Like I said, it could work _within_ a community of like-minded individuals. Unfortunately, threats mostly come from an _outside_ force. And that's what Astirian has become."

"Any ideas on how to tackle this problem?"

Nicolai nodded. "At first I was a bit uneasy about this aspect of my authority, but my word is effectively law. Now I find that it does have some benefits. If I tell them that violence is all right for defence, they'd be willing to form an army." He paused as he noticed his daughter squirming in his arms. She was staring at the large playpen shared by Danny, Sissi and Irene Montoya, so Nicolai crossed the room in a few giant strides and placed his daughter in the playpen. Though only Danny and Sissi played _with_ each other, something unusual for children their age, the one-year-olds seemed perfectly content to play in the company of each other.

"So why are you uneasy about creating an army?" Harry asked, when Nicolai had returned.

"I don't want a general to get hooked on the power and start wielding it irresponsibly. Granted, it isn't very probable in Shamballah, but it's still a factor that ought to be considered. Anyway…" Nicolai paused again, evidently having heard the sobs that penetrated the kitchen door.

"Poor Heidi. She doesn't deserve to live like this. Wolfe told her it was all right to find another man, but there aren't many men like him out there. I reckon I'm the closest thing to it, but I'm already married."

Nicolai smirked. "That shouldn't be a problem in Concordia. In order to accommodate cultures where polygamy is allowed, it's legal in Concordia as well. As is marriage between cross-cousins, and—"

"That's enough," Harry interrupted. "Ginny and Heidi may be best friends, but this is something Ginny _wouldn't _tolerate. And even if she would, I'm a one-woman man. For all its blessings, life with one woman is hard enough. I have no idea how Rolf manages to keep his sanity with two of them."

"Actually, I believe he's got an easy time with regards to that. The women lean on each other for emotional input. They don't need Rolf for that."

"Bloody hell. He really did find paradise, then." Harry muttered, though not quietly enough for Nicolai not to hear him.

"Not necessarily. Last week Mary and I took Oopsie to the ice cream parlour in Blue Five. Rolf and his ladies were also there, and I had the chance to observe their interaction. I've seen many signs that, deep down, the females each want to have the male for themselves. It's simply Mother Nature's effect on humans. Even though civilisation and the females' broader than normal sexuality is making them behave in an uncharacteristic way, each of the ladies wants some acknowledgement that she's the _first_ one, reflecting the female's concern to be the male's priority over the other female. So far, Rolf wisely refuses to … _go there_, as it were … but in the long run this will only create more tension. If he picks one over the other in the end, one of the women will be devastated. Padma's self confidence is still fragile, and in light of her past I doubt she'll emerge mentally unscathed if she's the one who is dismissed. Wendy would get over it more easily, but she'll still see it as a betrayal by Padma, who has become her best friend over the course of these last few years. Even if Rolf chooses neither and withdraws himself from the triangle, if he doesn't do it _soon_, the relationship between the women will be permanently damaged anyway."

Harry pursed his lips. He wasn't the type who liked to interfere, but Padma was a friend, and if Nicolai was right, he _had_ to interfere somehow. Perhaps if he explained the depth of the problematic consequences to Rolf, the Swede would realise that the relationship could only end in disaster. He used to be arrogant and a bit full of himself—which he still was, though not nearly as much as he'd been in his twenties—but he had a good heart, and Harry was sure that he didn't want to see Padma hurt. "I'll talk to Rolf after unarmed combat training tomorrow. If I put things like you have, I'm sure he'll listen."

"He might have doubts, since up until this point the women's behaviour has been very subtle. However, I could compile a list of things for him to ask them, as well as their possible answers with explanations as to the meaning of those answers. He'll have his proof when they answer the way I expect them to answer."

"You're awfully sure of yourself."

"I've seen lots of signs at the ice cream parlour." Nicolai flashed Harry a rueful grin. "As you know, I have plenty of opportunity to observe jealousy in varying degrees of subtlety, when Mary and I go out. Speaking of which, I need to get back to her right now. I set this afternoon aside for quality time. I haven't spent time with her since our trip to the ice cream parlour with Oopsie."

"She complained about not spending enough time together?" Harry asked.

"Actually, she told me I had such a busy schedule that when I finally had some time to spend with her, her boobs would be sagging and Oopsie would be all grown up."

Harry laughed. "That quote could have been Gudrun's."

"She was right, though. I've become a bit obsessed with my projects lately. Fortunately the kinks have been worked out of the new Cruiser prototype, and I think I've documented the procedures simply enough for others to build the remaining ships without my supervision. It'll allow me to spend the next few weeks with Mary and Oopsie."

"More projects on the horizon, then?"

Nicolai nodded. "I want to make magic available to everyone in the Mirror Realm. I've devised a way to saturate a gemstone with magic and remove all imperfections that way, _without_ the process ruining the gemstone for magic channelling purposes."

"Right, I heard about that." Harry nodded. "For my wand to work in the Mirror Realm, it needs to be tipped with a gemstone, right?"

"A flawless gemstone, yes, and it needs to be four carats, shaped ideally for maximum brilliance in the Asscher cut. As you know, flawless four-carat gemstones aren't easy to come by, right?" Nicolai gave him a questioning look, which turned into a smile as he recognised Harry's blank expression. "You don't have a clue what I'm talking about."

Harry shrugged. "Sorry, gemstones aren't my field of expertise. Maybe if you give me something to compare it to."

"Not that simple, I'm afraid. Rough gemstones can be cut into different shapes. The weight is constant, though. A four-carat diamond is nought-point-eight grams."

"And how are those gems mounted on the wands?"

"With the table nearly touching the tip of the wand, and the bottom pointing outwards, effectively becoming the new tip of the wand. Oh, and the gems must not have a culet at the bottom of the stone's pavilion. It needs to be pointy."

"Hold on! One thing I do know about gemstones is that they're supposed to reflect the light back out their tops."

Nicolai nodded. "In jewellery, brilliance is desirable. Why?"

"Won't the gems reflect the spells?"

"I've wondered that myself when I was told about their function, and I found that it does indeed happen. But it doesn't make the wand backfire, like you'd expect. It merely serves as an additional focus which allows the interference of the Mirror Realm's heavy magical currents to be overcome. The spell reflects onto the gem's table before being propelled out of the pavilion."

"Right. So, what kind of gems can be mounted on the wands?"

"Anything higher than one hundred and fifty on the Brinell scale will do."

"Brinell?"

Nicolai nodded. "I like it much better than the Moh scale, which isn't really a scale, but more of a comparative table. You see, Friedrich Moh took ten well-known, easily available minerals, and arranged them in order of their 'scratch hardness'. If a specimen to be tested can be scratched by a known mineral from the list, it is softer than that mineral. If it in turn will scratch another known mineral, it is harder. This gives a very quick and easy field test for hardness. It isn't very accurate though, and the Brinell method is much better in that regard. Too bad diamond's hardness can't be measured on the Brinell scale, since a diamond indenter is used for the test itself, but it's many times harder than corundum."

Harry blinked.

"Examples of corundum are sapphire and ruby," Nicolai added helpfully.

"_That_ I understand," Harry said with a chuckle. "Oh, and one more thing," he continued, remembering something he'd been told in the past. "I thought wands worked just fine outside the Immortals' Circle. So why the gems?"

"The reason wands don't work in the Immortals' Circle is because it's packed with powerful magical currents. The rest of the Mirror Realm is mostly like ours, except that there are a few dozen currents like the one in the ones in the Immortals' Circle sweeping over the rest of the realm. When you find yourself inside one, your wand doesn't work. And these so-called storms have been known to remain in one place for weeks, halting all magic use during that time. It's actually the opposite in the Immortals' Circle. There it's all storm, with a few occasional gaps in it."

Harry remembered being able to feel his wand from time to time, and nodded. "So the gems are to guarantee the wands' functioning."

"Not just that, and your question allows me to correct what you said earlier. If you've been told that wands work _just fine_ in most of the Mirror Realm, most of the time, you either heard wrong or have been given faulty information. While our wands _do_ work, the spells are weaker than normal. You see, even when there is no current directly blocking the magic, there are always traces of those currents everywhere."

"Ah!" Harry scratched the back of his head. "Well, thanks for the lesson on magical mechanics and mineralogy. So, when will I get a gem for my wand?"

"I'll get back to you on that after my vacation."

* * *

x

* * *

Wolfe had had a very busy week, aside from trying to get his youngest son to trust him again. Upon meeting the other resistance leaders, Wolfe had discovered that not all of them were idealists. Some of them were truly unsavoury characters who had been criminals, and were planning to become warlords and carve out their own little kingdoms the moment the duchess was defeated. He'd even discovered that the death of the Floriath camp's former leader hadn't been merely an ill twist of fate. It had been a conspiracy masterminded by Aluro, an Etti, and the worst of the less-than-kosher leaders. The moment Wolfe had picked up on these thoughts, he had begun asking questions about the former leader's death, and Aluro co-operated nicely by unknowingly feeding Wolfe some necessary information by thinking about the incident.

Realising that the charismatic and idealistic former leader Marvos—also an Etti—would probably assume provisional leadership if the duchess were overthrown and steer a course that went very much against Aluro's plans, he conspired with a few native resistance fighters to lead Marvos into an ambush, while on a journey to another resistance camp. He'd convinced the other conspirators that his own men would attack them and kill Marvos, but wound them just enough to make it seem like they fought. Instead, he had tipped off the ducal forces, telling them about a messenger taking an assault plan from one resistance encampment to another. His co-conspirators were killed, leaving no traces that could lead back to him, for the handful of resistance spies within the ducal forces were too few to have much of a chance of uncovering evidence of the treachery. And even if they did, it would be impossible to prove that _he_ had been the leak.

Wolfe had contemplated collecting his head on the spot, since convincing the other leaders that he was a Mind Reader wouldn't have been too difficult. However he didn't want Boron—the corrupt Doalun leader who was secretly making a fortune from selling out his own people—to know that he knew about his exploits. Nor did he want the other bad ones to know, since he wasn't in a position to deal with them if they turned against him, at least, not without harming the resistance as a whole. They were crafty enough to start covering their tracks and making their immediate subordinates sceptical about his gift. He realised that he'd have to pick them off one by one without them finding out what hit them, before he could even think about any martial operations against the ducal forces. And it vexed him endlessly, since every moment Yamato spent inventing weapons for the duchess meant more deaths among resistance fighters when the time came.

His discoveries had prompted Wolfe to duplicate himself forty-nine times and comb through the Floriath camp in search of undesirables, to insure that his own base was free of taint as soon as possible. At first he'd hesitated about revealing that ability, but decided that the duchess probably already knew about it. It immediately became apparent that Marvos must have been a great judge of character, because Wolfe had found very few bad apples. Those he did find were mostly guilty of conning people out of their meagre resources and bartering them for their own profit, and he had quickly exposed them by playing them out against each other. It was also how he planned to deal with Aluro and Boron. Aluro's tip-off and ambush scheme had its merits.

"I'm back!" Wolfe heard Holly's voice call from outside his new tent, which used to belong to Marvos. It was actually a bit smaller than Patrinia's, underlining the man's humble nature.

"Did you speak to my grandfather personally?"

She nodded. "He said he'd try to step up Shamballah's reconstruction, and train and commission an army to help us. But he also said that he was sure you'd have things taken care of by the time help could arrive."

In light of his recent discoveries, Wolfe doubted that very much. Had the resistance been a cohesive force full of dedicated beings and without scum with their own agendas, his grandfather would have been right. But now Wolfe had to make sure that a victory wouldn't be followed by warlords jockeying for position in the resulting power vacuum. It would take months of weeding out rotten apples, and covertly getting the brainwashed communities of various races reacquainted enough to prevent them from attacking each other out of ignorance. He could only attempt to unseat the duchess _after_ all that had been accomplished.

Wolfe produced a crude leather envelope from his pocket. "This letter contains all you need to know about where and when to find your father, what you need to be ready for upon finding him, _and_ lots of really important things you need to keep in mind afterwards. You already know very well what consequences time travel has. Thanks to you being in the past, lots of people now have refuge in Floriath. The last time we saw each other was less than two years in the past for me, but nearly eleven years from your perspective. Need I go on?"

Holly blushed and shook her head. Then she took the envelope, briefly stared at it as if it contained the meaning of life, then carefully tucked it away in a pouch that was slung across her shoulder.

"So … will you be leaving immediately?"

"Do you want me to?" she asked, looking slightly disappointed as her blush dissipated. Wolfe didn't have to use his mind reading gift to see that this wasn't going the way she had imagined it in her naïve fantasies.

"I could really use your speed around here, but I think it would be best if you leave as soon as you read the letter."

"But what does it matter? I have to travel back in time, right? I have all the time in the world."

Wolfe heaved a sigh. Holly was nearly the age when she and Pecos Bill had rescued Harry. That meant that she couldn't stick around for too long. But how could he convince her to go, when conventional logic said not to let a powerful and handy ally like her leave the war effort? Now his duplicates would have to fly over to the other resistance camps under their own power, and none of his Animagus forms could fly faster than the speed of sound.

"You'll have to trust me on this. I can't tell you why. I know it seems unfair for me to withhold information, since you saved my life and all, but I'm sure you'll understand someday."

She nodded solemnly. "I trust you."

Max stepped towards her, bent down slightly and kissed her on the forehead. "For luck."

Her blush returned full force, and she beamed up at him. Before he could step back, she stood on her tiptoes and gave him a quick peck on the lips.

"Thank you," she said merrily, and with a bounce in her step she strode out of his life as suddenly as she had appeared, and from her perspective, had yet to appear.

* * *

x

* * *

**Author's Note: **Okay, this chapter was a short one by my standards, and a bit on the boring side as well eh? The next one is a 9703-word super chapter, which will be set roughly ten months after this one. (In case it wasn't clear enough from Wolfe's perspective, there was no significant passage of time between Chapters 15, 16,17, and this one. About one week has gone by.) Hopefully Chapter 19 will keep you entertained. Two original characters who you have known as children will be 18 and ready to tie the knot, and there will be some surprising twists and revelations.

And now for the reviews.

**NCDSbookworm**: I thought Wolfe could finally use a break.

**Foxfur**: Wolfe wasn't borrowing Harry's strength The link can't be used for that. Normally they'd be able to feel each other's emotions, (much like Harry can feel Voldemort's in the books, and vice versa) but not now. The Mirror Realm is just too distant for that to work, though when either one is channelling tremendous, superhuman amounts of magic (more than they would have been able to channel before absorbing one half of Novoridu's Talisman), the other one can feel it. To put in everyday terms, only very large blips register on their radar at this range.

**Numba1**: To answer you question for Chapter 16, the evil duchess isn't the target of the assassination I was talking about. As for your comments after Chapter 17, I think Wolfe's take on things were clear in his letter, right?

**hootild**: The catch is that even though he found his son, he can't go back home.

**lluvatar**: Tadaa!

**blah29**: Not quite yet. Wolfe needs to cut out the cancers among his 'allies' first, right?

**Gogirl**: I'm sure Westley road to recovery will be a bit easier when he notices the lack of family resemblance between him and Yamato.

**Kristus Vesanus **and **Lipton**: LOL, yeah. What gave it away? The reception crowd or the blessing? **Disclaimer: **Parts of Chapter 17 were inspired by Christopher Paolini's _Eragon_ and incorporated with far too little adjustments, I'm ashamed to admit. If any of you guys and gals haven't read Eragon, you are hereby encouraged to do so. It's a great book.

**Lady of Masbolle**: I thought the broomstick analogy was pretty good. As for Wolfe, he is only ⅛ incubus, but there is something in the Mirror Realm air that makes his magical-creature slice harder to resist. If you think Wolfe is in trouble, wait until you see Mirror Realm influence bring on Ironheart's second youth.

**Justn**: Wolfe's letter should have answered your question.

**bane**: There are more in store.

**Nycgal**: A book? I wish! No, I said something along the lines of: 'In the event that I ever write a book…'

**Athena McGonagall**: Well, Wolfe will definitely stick around. But whether he will go back to Heidi or his nobility will become his bane, remains to be seen.

**Fragarach**: Yes, aren't I?

**Elric Magus**: Poor sod, eh?

**jibro13**: I hope you get over your review-apathy and drop in from time to time.

**Jake**: Chapter 16 was definitely a review famine. Fortunately it turned out to be a one chapter thing, but it still took every ounce of my willpower not to let my ego get the better of me.


	19. Unrelenting Surprises

Chapter 19

**Unrelenting Surprises**

****

It was exactly one week into July, and almost another year of relative peace had passed once again. Bill's third-born, Alan, would be turning nine in two days, and Molly had planned a big family gathering to coincide with his birthday. Harry was a bit annoyed about Ginny having to miss it, since she was scheduled to go on her two-week patrol tomorrow, but those were the demands of their work. Now, he was floating a few inches above the observation deck of a very steep cone-shaped building called Imperial Tower, which was the imperial palace of Shamballah. Peaking at a little over thirty-five hundred feet, and having a base diameter just as wide, it easily exceeded most palaces of the Earth Realm with regards to volume. He, Matt, and Governor Ironheart were looking down on the city. Though some buildings were very tall in their own right, none came within two-hundred feet of the Imperial Tower, since ancient laws decreed that the emperor's view needed to be unobstructed from his personal chambers, which made up the uppermost two hundred feet of the tower.

Currently, Nicolai's closest maternal relatives, along with some family friends who included Harry and Ginny, had stayed the night in the upper part of the palace. It was just he and Ginny, since he'd dropped his children off at The Burrow a few days ago to stay with their grandmother. Ron and Hermione had done the same with Raina, Christine, and two-month-old Ronald Junior, whose conception had surprised everyone, since Hermione hadn't planned on having any more children until she was in her late thirties or early forties.

"It was almost like Havana, Cuba, when I first got here. Most buildings were functional, though barely, and in need of thorough restoration. Despite that, it was still an impressive sight … but I digress. This building was just about the only one that had been properly maintained throughout the ages. About one tenth of the city has now been restored, and as you can see, Imperial Tower is used as the centre point for restoration," Ironheart said, sweeping his arm in a grand arc as he gestured to the buildings around them.

Harry could see some buildings in the distance that were surrounded by scaffolding and some floating platforms. All of the ones in the immediate vicinity had indeed already undergone restoration.

"How is my imminent son-in-law going to pay for it all?" Matt asked, having a pensive frown on his face. "As impressive as the prophecy sounds, I don't think it's enough to drive people to work for free, year after year."

Ironheart nodded. "It wasn't. He promised to make magic available to all—as was written in the prophecy—but after two years doubt began gnawing at people's minds and they wanted to see some proof. Mostly the ones who had been running the show before the gate opened—and they weren't too pleased with their sudden loss of status. I don't know how Nicolai anticipated when it would happen, but he did. That's why he decided to begin the diamond treatments in November. Magic is a priceless commodity here, enough so that it will get people at work at the mere promise of it. The effect can already be felt, too. Nicolai has given the building industry the highest priority above everything save the healing arts, and with more workers wielding wands they've restored more in the last four months than in the previous two years."

Harry could imagine people willing to do anything with the mere promise of magic. The Weasleys wouldn't have been able to get by with Arthur's income if they'd been Muggles. Wizards didn't earn as much money as Muggles did, but this wasn't a problem, since magical solutions to many things drastically lowered the cost of living. And a few months ago, Nicolai had taken steps to make magic commonly available.

First, he had re-created and adapted a Wand Revealer—a rare crystal ball first created by an ancient wand-maker some thousand years ago, and of which only two remained worldwide—which was a feat that no one had managed to do since the wizard's great-granddaughter, some hundred years after that. Upon being touched by a wizard, it would show the particulars of a wand that would best suit the wizard in question. He had adapted the new one to include the right mineral component, as well as the plant and animal ones.

Then Nicolai had treated about a hundred flawed gems—donated by Matt—in a simmering potion that removed imperfections even deep within the stones. Charlie Weasley Senior had been the first one to successfully test a treated aquamarine in the Mirror Realm, after which Nicolai hired some twenty potions masters and a hundred goblin and dwarf gem-cutters to help him produce the gems in greater numbers. He'd also hired and trained Janos Gaal and some other retired Ranger artificers to create and place three tiny oval umbranium-alloy sockets on every wand, where the three legs of the umbranium framework that held the gem a tiny fraction of an inch above the wand's tip could be clicked into place and removed again with a slight push and twist. That made it easy for Earth Realm wizards to remove the gems so they could safely cast spells in their native realm upon their return.

At first, the wands had been converted on demand, but as five months passed, adding between sixty-five and seventy gems every day, a testament to the potency of the gem-cutters' magical tools and their skill in using them, Nicolai decided to adapt the production strategy to suit a trend in the gemstones' demographics. These had shown that the harder minerals suited more powerful wizards and witches, while softer minerals suited less powerful folk. The first through thirtieth percentile of wizards had gems like hiddenite, kunzite, grossular garnet, rock-crystal, amethyst, citrine, pyrope garnet, spessarite garnet, rhodolite garnet, zircon, and iolite. The thirty-first through seventieth percentile of witches and wizards had proven to be compatible with minerals like uvarovite garnet, andalusite, or one of the beryl varieties like aquamarine, emerald, morganite, heliodor, and the many colours that couldn't be classified under those names. Next, the seventy-first through ninety-fifth percentile of wizard-kind favoured topaz and spinel, each with their many colours, and the witches and wizards closer to the ninety-fifth percentile had chrysoberyl, of which alexandrite was the most well-known variety. The penultimate category of gemstones was compatible with the remaining four and nine hundred ninety-nine thousandth percent of witches and wizards. These were corundum stones, of which ruby and sapphire were the most popular examples. Unknown to most, however, corundum came in almost every colour, just like the softer beryl. Finally, one thousandth of a percent of wizards were so powerful that only diamond would do.

At least, that was the current assumption, since Harry had been the only one to need a diamond, according to the adapted Wand-Revealer. However, it had turned out that the magical artefact hadn't been able to detect the magic not native to Harry, for his first test with a red diamond had destroyed it. After determining what had gone wrong—that the pendant's magic had taken Harry's power to a level no natural substance could handle—Nicolai had devised a way to create an artificial diamond for Harry.

Until recently, beta carbon nitride—a material derived from theories on crystalline structure entertained both by wizard alchemists and Muggle scientists—had been only a theory. And while Nicolai had could have created the artificial gem himself, he hadn't done so, since a gem created by Harry's own magic would be more compatible with Harry himself. That was why Nicolai had extracted the necessary knowledge from his mind and introduced it into Harry's with the help of a handy Knowledge Immersion Pool, a device Harry had used before when he had needed to learn Kung Fu in a hurry. Unfortunately, a side effect was that Harry felt like he had an encyclopaedia in his head, which accounted for the involuntary mental monologue about mineralogy and gemmology. He had also displayed some of Nicolai's mannerisms for a while, though those had fortunately faded away. Still, it had been worth it. Now Harry owned a gem that encased a single cell of his own blood—something that improved its channelling capacity even further.

"So what kind of gem do you have?" Matt's voice rang, snapping Harry out of his Nicolai-influenced thoughts.

"Yellow sapphire," Ironheart answered. "You?"

"Padparasha …orange sapphire." Matt said, as he drew showed his wand and showed an orange stone to Ironheart.

"Ah, that brings back some fond memories." A silly grin appeared on Ironheart's face, and Harry sensed that this was leading to an anecdote about one of his conquests. "I had to track down a stolen magical padparasha once. The search for the stone also took me to Iceland, where I met your mother-in-law. Gods, if I hadn't known for a fact that succubae had been extinct in the Earth Realm for six hundred years, I'd have suspected her of being half-succubus. She was insatiable!"

Matt laughed. "Believe me, the apple didn't fall very far from the tree."

If Harry hadn't been practising his invisibility, which he had finally discovered about a month ago, his ears would have been Weasley red by now.

Ironheart sighed wistfully. "A pity that she can't be here today."

"I've hired a crew to make recordings of the wedding and reception. One of Doc's sisters is in the business. Verna will get to see the entire wedding next time she visits the children at Caer Sidi."

Knowing that merely appearing out of thin air would lead to questions, Harry quickly floated to the stairs and descended partway before turning visible and tangible again. Then he ascended the stairs on foot until he reached the observation deck.

"Harry, good morning," Commander Ironheart called out to him. "I trust the breakfast was satisfactory."

"Very. But that's hardly surprising, since everybody knows the royal chef's skill," Harry replied, as he came to a stop next to Matt, at the edge of the platform. He followed Matt and Ironheart's example and rested his arms on the cast iron railing.

Galatea's sister Thetis was the royal chef in question, and she'd grown to become one of the best in the wizarding world. When looking for someone to prepare him Earth Realm dishes in the Mirror Realm, Ironheart had hired her. The smirk on the aging wizard's face told Harry that Thetis was more than just a chef to him, probably bringing him breakfast in bed whenever his wife wasn't around. She was a bit on the dumpy side and the least attractive of her sisters, but considering that Ironheart had once hooked up with a giantess, it was unlikely that he discriminated against mass. He wondered if Ironheart would ever grow too old for his behaviour, though he doubted it.

Harry nodded to the city below. "I've already flown around the city. The people are really gearing up for the party."

"I can't thank you enough for keeping an eye on things during the wedding ceremony," Ironheart said. "I wish I didn't have to rely on the Rangers, but it'll be another decade before I'll have a competent Imperial Guard."

"Nicolai is also a Ranger now. We look after our own."

"This reminds me, Donovan. Elena, Nicolai and Mary can move into our neighbourhood, because I have a buyer for your house in Concordia," Matt said.

"Really? I didn't know one of the families in the neighbourhood was moving out."

"Antoine Lescoriere got a promotion, and he and his wife wanted to move up the social ladder by moving to a higher tier."

"They're not moving into my house, are they? If they are, do what you must to reverse the deal," Ironheart said, a look of plain disgust on his face.

Matt sniggered. "Not to worry. We didn't do a house-switch. Antoine's raise was substantial enough to allow them to move to the fifth tier. The bastard's still greedy despite his raise, though. He tried to sell me the house at three times the market price. I had a hunch he'd try to capitalise on his knowledge of my ample finances, so I brought Xander, along with his favourite toy. It's this magical rubber ball that bounces like crazy…not something you want a kid to have in a room full of pottery and porcelain. Antoine was far more reasonable after three of his vases broke," he added with a malevolent grin.

Ironheart chuckled. "Creative solution to your problem, and an excellent way to use your opponent's psyche to turn the tables on him. You'll make a fine commander someday, Mr Kelly."

"Me? What about Harry?"

"Harry shook his head. "No way I'll become a commander. Maybe a lieutenant, if I'm offered the spot. But nothing beyond that."

"He's not comfortable with being responsible for people he isn't closely acquainted with," Ironheart said, summarising the reason for Harry's reluctance. He didn't mind commanding fellow Combat Rangers he knew very well into dangerous situations. But to be responsible for every soul in the Order was something he never wanted to experience.

"Really? One would think that it would be peanuts for you, given the things you've been through."

"I didn't go through them by choice," Harry pointed out. "Had I been able to choose, I'd have shoved the responsibility for defeating Voldemort on someone else."

"True leaders often get the mantle of leadership thrust upon them, though. They don't choose it," Ironheart said meaningfully.

"Yeah, but it only works out if those leaders are comfortable with their assigned roles. I don't have it in me to lead at the highest level and be comfortable doing it."

Matt reached over and clapped him on the shoulder. "Good point. Oh, and before I forget, I also managed to pick up a wedding present for Mary and Nicolai at the Lescorieres'. After Antoine capitulated, I managed to save a fourth jar that was being knocked off its perch. At first sight I thought it was a very good replica among a bunch of obvious fakes, but when I caught it, I saw an etching on the inside that identified it as Ming dynasty, late Wanli period."

Harry had heard of the Ming dynasty, but most of what he knew were anecdotes from Nicolai's thoughts and memories about the properties of jade and jade jewellery. "Sounds expensive."

"It's worth about two thousand Galleons. It's a magic jar, and only thirteen of its kind were made. Three are at Caer Sidi, three in the Japanese royal family's vaults, and five in a Chinese wizarding museum. The other two were presumed lost, until this one turned up. Their magic properties are activated if you place a jade stone inside, and they preserve everything you put in the jar perfectly. I told Lescoriere that I might as well take it off his hands since my son ruined his set. I offered him fifty Galleons, since I also had to compensate the broken ones, but he asked for a hundred. Hell, even a replica this accurate costs a hundred, so I agreed. I reckon he probably thought he got his revenge on me, he was so happy."

Harry and Ironheart laughed heartily at that, before lapsing into a companionable silence for a few minutes, watching the aerial traffic—consisting mostly of keelboat-sized flying ships about fifty to seventy-five feet long, and fifteen to twenty feet wide—traverse the skies above Shamballah. None of those vehicles rose higher than eleven hundred feet, though, since ancient laws specified that the emperor had to be able to look upon the traffic as well. It wasn't very practical, since even the highest flying ships had to go around Imperial Tower. However, for security reasons, Harry felt that it would be better to leave that particular law intact.

"So where on the fifth level will the Lescorieres live?" Ironheart asked, still looking at the scenery.

Two doors down from the Fausts, actually."

"I'm sure Janice will be thrilled," Harry muttered sarcastically, and Matt and Ironheart laughed heartily. He turned his head sideways a bit to look at Matt. "So who's the buyer for the big house?"

"K&L Corp. I'm the one buying Donovan's house, but the new export manager for the vineyard and the Longbottom Leaf and Miraculum Weed plantations will move into it. She'll also serve as a liaison between Neville Longbottom and myself. You know her." A boyish smirk appeared on Matt's face. "She's the royal chef's younger sister."

Harry nodded. "Calypso. But will she be living there all by herself? It's a big house."

Matt stepped out from the middle to allow three way conversation. "Calypso will have the west wing to herself, and the main house and east wing will be refurbished to house visiting herbalists who have business with Neville and I, as well as some young herbalists-in-training who need to gain some experience with Assassin Vine in the vineyard and Longbottom Leaf at the plantation. Concordian lodgings are too expensive for many of them on account of the length of their stay, so I thought I'd set up some subsidised lodgings. Calypso has an excellent nose for herbology talent, and this way Neville and I get an extra edge in convincing the young herbalists that their future lies with Kelly & Longbottom."

"I imagine the fact that Calypso is pleading your case also adds to your advantage, if the aspiring herbalists are boys." Harry grinned. "A young, part-Veela lady only a few years older than themselves, batting her eyelashes and asking them very nicely to work for K&L…"

Ironheart gave Matt a calculating look. "At times I wonder whether you should have followed in your father's footsteps, Matt. I don't have to employ my gift to know that you're very aware of the potential benefits of young Miss Angelou's looks."

"It was Neville's idea, actually. He used a very appropriate metaphor." Matt's smirk became even more pronounced. "The brighter the flowers and the sweeter the scents, the likelier it is that the insects will return. Now I know what my herbology teacher at Bunyips meant when he said that there's wisdom in the plants. Anyway, when I retire, I just might go into business. Of course, I'll never let it swallow up all my time like my father did. It'll be a hobby. My family always comes first."

"Not that Gudrun wouldn't warn you if it looked like your hobby were becoming an obsession," Harry teased.

"For all your power, you don't wear the pants in your house either, Potter," Matt retorted.

Harry shrugged. "Ginny already looks better than I do in my boxers and dressing gown, so why not let her have the pants too?"

"Ginny snatches your boxers? She must have picked that trait up from Gudrun."

"Nope, she used to do that back at The Burrow too."

Harry leaned to the side and saw Ron approaching. Matt had been blocking the stairway's landing from Harry's view, so he hadn't seen Ron appear. The look on his best friend's face told him that Ron wouldn't have been up there if he hadn't had bad news. Harry got the feeling that he would probably miss the wedding.

"Maaike de Bruijn just came through the gate. Harry, you've been summoned to Concordia by Chief Peterson. It has to do with the trolls. Nicolai authorised an extra opening of the gate."

"He can do that?"

"Absolute monarchy, mate," Matt said. "Those are the dynamics of leadership around here."

"We'd better hurry, though," Ron interjected. "The gate will open in fifteen minutes."

"We?"

"I'm coming with you. I want to know what this is about."

"What about the wedding?"

"I'm sure we'll be back in time for the wedding."

* * *

x

* * *

"I was the only one not doing anything, so Faust sent me through the gate to fetch you," Maaike said. "I was really looking forward to unwinding a bit. The last days in England were a bit stressful," she added, rolling her eyes. "Some the Ministry of Magic officials wanted to see whether the Aurors have actually learnt anything, so I had to whip some kind of trial for them. I ended up simulating a vampire attack, and the Aurors got to apply the tracking techniques I taught them. I also borrowed a few red golems and a black one from the Order, to simulate a fight between Aurors and vampires. They had the nerve to suggest that I'd rigged the golems to hold back."

Ron nodded to her, conveying his sympathy. Many Fudge-like characters had been rising through the ranks of the Ministry for the last couple of years. The witch who had replaced Percy as the Head of the Department of International Magical Co-operation was a sycophant of the highest order. It was a pity that the Order of Illumination had rules against direct interference with magical governments, withholding them from preventing such shallow characters to gain any real power. However, he'd pondered certain strategies that would allow him to circumvent these rules, and decided to talk to Percy about some of his findings when he went back to England to pick up his children.

Maaike continued to fume as they exited the Umbral Gate complex. "Hah! I should've set those golems on _them_. See what they would've thought after _that_."

"How is Rick Cotton? Did you two work on some relationship strategies?" Harry asked, skilfully cutting Maaike off before her rant could gain momentum.

"Oh, Rick's all right, and we decided to further loosen our arrangement. He came clean and told me he felt that he'd missed some good opportunities for a relationship with worthy women. I sort of felt the same way once, so I agreed. But we didn't burn our bridges, since I'll be seeing more of him the around this time next year. I'll be doing a follow up project."

Harry nodded. "Go on home and enjoy your break. It sure sounds like you've earned it!"

"Good luck with whatever trouble the trolls are causing." Maaike waved jauntily, and walked towards an express portal that would take her straight to the sixth tier.

Harry and Ron proceeded straight ahead, to a portal that would take them to the top tier, which was where the headquarters for the City Watch were located.

"Bugger. I wonder what the trolls have been up to. What could be so bad that that it couldn't have waited for a few more hours?" Harry wondered out loud.

"We'll know in about a minute," Ron said, while he waved his identification plaque over small mirror next to the portal. It shimmered to life a few seconds later, and Harry and Ron stepped through, ending up very close to the entrance of their destination.

They immediately saw about four dozen trolls of both sexes and varying ages arrayed in rows while Chief Peterson was addressing them. The Lord Mayor was there as well, probably waiting to get some answers.

"Ah, Mr Potter. I appreciate your making some time for us, with your busy schedule and all." Chief Peterson spoke up sharply, glaring at Harry. Ron was glad not to be in Harry's shoes right now. He found the accusing look in her violet blue eyes remarkably similar to Hermione's, even though the two women looked nothing alike.

"What seems to be the problem?" Harry asked, remaining impressively calm.

"Sorry about the outburst," Peterson said, having regained some of her composure. "The problem is that the trolls have been meeting all over town in brawls, trying to beat each other senseless and wrecking a lot of private property in the process. The only thing they told me was that _you_ told them to do it."

Ron had to work hard not to laugh, so priceless was the look on Harry's face.

"I did no such thing!" Harry exclaimed, and turned to one of the trolls standing up front. "I want you to answer any of the questions Chief Peterson asks you. Understood?"

The troll nodded briskly.

Peterson frowned. "Why do I have to ask them?"

"Because you're better at interrogation than I am," Harry replied.

Peterson sighed and turned to the troll. "All right, you can start by helping me to understand _why_ you've been fighting."

The troll reacted with a pained expression of long suffering, as if what Peterson had asked him to explain was so obvious that it needed no explanation. It pointed at another troll that was standing up front. "Pink!"

The other troll replied immediately, pointing back at the trolls Peterson was talking to. "Orange!"

It was only then that Ron noticed that the trolls were wearing pink and orange kerchiefs around their necks, and that they stood in the room, divided by colour. Somehow, though, he found it hard to believe that the trolls were fighting over which fashion statement to put forth.

Peterson turned to the other troll—with the pink kerchief—who seemed to speak for the trolls in pink. "No, I understand there are two factions, but what is your point of contention? Where do you disagree with each other?"

The troll pointed at his orange-wearing counterpart and spoke more emphatically. "Orange!"

"Pink!" the orange leader immediately replied, pointing to the other troll.

"Yes, but who gets to wear the pink sash and who gets to wear the orange sash?" Peterson asked, growing more exasperated by the second. "I mean, is it based on income, or caste, or rank, or—"

"We put orange and pink in six barrels," the pink leader interrupted. "One for near-men, one for men, and one for old men. Same for females. We reach in, we take. Where there was one troll people, now there are two. The two fight until there are one. Camp that wins will lead for next five years. General said we had to come up with way to choose leaders. Trolls decide this is best way."

Peterson stared at the trolls incredulously. "That's it? It's totally random? Arbitrary? Well then, how do you choose a leader for each side?"

"One orange and one pink carry mark of leadership," the orange leader said, and Ron noticed that they had a brooch of some sort on their sashes. "One who takes leader cloth is leader. One who takes orange is orange, and follow orange leader. One who takes pink is pink, and follow pink leader."

"Okay, so in other words—" Peterson paused in mid-sentence, and stepped between the leaders and pointed at the pink and orange followers. "Would you two step forward for a moment, please?"

The trolls were a bit confused but they complied.

"Okay, so what you're trying to tell me is that if I take this orange sash off him…"—Peterson took the sash off an orange troll, much to the dismay of the remaining oranges—"and put it on him…"—she put the orange sash on a pink troll, agitating both pink and orange trolls as she did so, but being too wrapped up in her question to notice as she turned to face the leaders—"that this one thing alone is enough to start a…"

She didn't get a chance to finish her deliberation, for a riot had erupted behind her. She was thrown to the floor by a bunch of fighting trolls. One landed on her heavily, and she screamed in pain.

* * *

x

* * *

"Great, just great! It'll hurt like hell. Not as much as having a troll crush your foot, but don't you think I've had enough pain for one day?" Peterson yelled, making Harry feel even more guilt than he had already been experiencing. Peterson's lower leg and foot had been crushed by the trolls' weight, and Healer Franklin had told her that it would be easier to simply remove the bones in the foot and re-grow them.

"I can give you something for the pain," Franklin offered.

Peterson shifted around, a motion that made her boneless foot flop back and forth. "Oh great, _now_ you can give me something for the pain. Where were you when I was going through puberty?"

The healer held a tiny cup containing barely a sip of green liquid. "Drink this first, then. I'll dull the pain while your bones are growing back. Don't worry, it won't hamper the Skele-Gro, but you'll have to stay off your feet until your bones have re-grown."

"I don't have time to stay off my feet." Peterson pushed his hand away. "Give me something that'll keep my leg in shape for the time being. I can't have it flopping around."

"You'll need a temporary cast. We haven't used one in years, but I think I know where to find one," the healer said, before he strode out of the examination room.

Peterson turned to Harry. "I don't suppose you'll change your mind about letting the trolls govern themselves, are you?"

Harry shook his head. "They can't continue to depend on ridiculously powerful humans to tell them what to do."

"I was afraid of that." Peterson sighed. "Well, getting them together to resolve their differences didn't work, because they don't have differences to resolve. So maybe I've got to come at this from a different angle. Maybe find a way to structure things so no bystanders get caught in the brawl." She fell silent, morosely staring at her boneless foot.

"Maybe they'll listen better without members of the opposite camp nearby," Ron suggested.

"Talk to them separately?"

"Just a thought."

Peterson shrugged. "What the hell. It might work!" Then she dug into her pocket and took out a small mirror, examined it and heaved a sigh of relief. "Good, it isn't broken…Manilow?"

"Yes, Chief?" a voice replied tersely.

"Hey, don't be so moody. I think it's time you get over that lady. A working girl isn't reliable girlfriend material anyway."

"Her name was Lola. She was a showgirl!" came the vehement reply.

"Yeah, yeah, with the yellow feathers in her hair, and her dress cut down to there. You told everyone in the City Watch a million times. Honestly, you've been acting like she died, but she only dumped you. Now be quiet, I need you to do something for me."

"How can you be so callous? I was in love!"

"Ugh, you know what, get me Turner, and take the rest of the day off."

Moments later, a female voice sounded. "That was pretty harsh, Chief. He really _was_ in love."

"What's love got to do,"—her sentence was briefly interrupted by a sudden hiccough— "got to do with it?"

"Have you no heart?

"Feh! Who needs a heart when a heart can be broken."

"Really, girlfriend. Why so bitter?"

Harry wondered that himself. For a moment he was tempted to peek into the constable's mind to see what caused her attitude, but decided not to violate her mental privacy.

"I don't want to talk about this, Tina. Did the trolls stay put, like Mr Potter ordered them to?"

"Yeah, but it's obvious that they're itching for a fight. Should I take them the holding cells?"

"No … we don't want to agitate them any further, and I don't want anyone to end up in the House of Healing. Take the pinks to the canteen and keep them there. I'm coming to talk to the oranges."

"The healers have patched you up?"

"Not exactly. I decided to deal with the problem now and get properly patched up later. Peterson out."

"Sorry for the delay," Franklin said, as he wandered in with a temporary cast that could be strapped around the foot. "I had to dust it off first."

"Just put it on," Peterson huffed impatiently. The healer complied, and managed to put on the cast in a decent amount of time, though Harry had helped him with the straps. Now, Peterson hobbled along, using a crutch to take some of the weight off the boneless leg, since the cast didn't give enough support to carry her weight.

Soon they found themselves in the City Watch headquarters' entrance hall again, where the orange trolls were now lying on the ground. When one of them noticed that Harry had entered the building, he issued a grunt-like command which caused the other trolls to quickly clamber to their feet.

"All right," Peterson hobbled in front of the trolls like an injured general. "What you've been doing is insane. You can't keep beating each other senseless over a piece of cloth, even if it _is_ your way of choosing a leader."

"But fighting is way of troll," the orange leader said.

"I wouldn't have a problem with it if it wasn't inconveniencing other people!" Peterson said, and ripped off the leader's orange sash in frustration "I don't care how you do it, but you will find another way."

"Yes leader!" the trolls bellowed, startling her into dropping her crutch.

Harry looked around and saw that all the trolls were now facing Peterson and standing in attention.

Peterson suddenly looked at the trolls suspiciously. "What?"

"Who pick orange is orange, follow orange leader. Who take cloth for orange leader is orange leader. Oranges follow orange leader!"

Peterson looked at Harry, and all he could do was shrug. The trolls had come up with this method all by themselves, so he had no idea what was going on.

"Wait a minute. You're saying just because I'm holding I'm holding this right now, _I'm_ orange leader?"

The troll seemed to embarrassed to answer.

"But I'm not a troll!"

The former leader had recovered enough to answer. "Rules of combat not mention troll by kind. Only say that _one_ who take leader cloth is leader. Rules do not say that one _have_ to be troll," he continued sheepishly. "One troll saw problem before combat, but was too late to change rule. It caught up in committee. Not come through until victors become new leaders."

Peterson grinned. "Yeah, bureaucracy. Tell me about it. Well, what do you know? All right." She looped the orange cloth around her neck. "Orange leader says that you're all coming with us down to the quartermaster's office—I'm sure he'll have some dye around. And those of you not spending the next few days locked away for assaulting a City Watch officer are going to look absolutely _gorgeous_ in pink!"

* * *

x

* * *

Harry laughed, as they headed towards the nearest portal that could take them back to the Umbral Gate. "I can't believe that worked. Both groups were too confused to fight. Too bad it doesn't solve the problem of leadership for the trolls."

"It might," Ron said, as he suddenly got an idea. "They could still have a flag war in an altered form."

"What do you mean?"

"Instead of beating each other senseless, capture and dye the other side's sashes. A time limit needs to be agreed upon, since it could take quite while to achieve total victory, but it _could_ work."

"It could," Harry agreed, while dug around in his pocket for his identification plaque. "They might be disappointed about the lack of skull-bashing, but I think they'll agree if I present the plan in a way that makes them see the merits of a more peaceful decision making process. Ah, here we go." He waved his plaque in front of a small mirror next to the portal. "Umbral Gate Complex."

Ron allowed Harry to step through first, before following him a second later. To his surprise, he ended up in the Citadel of Illumination, facing an ashen-faced Maaike and a grim Commander Faust.

Harry was scratching the back of his head. "How did we end up back here?"

"A Ranger invented those portals," Ron explained. "In an emergency, the traffic can be altered from the citadel. I guess your identification plaque triggered this response." He looked at Faust. "I assume there is an emergency?"

Faust nodded. "An Auror has disappeared in England. Ironically, evidence points to a _vampire_ attack. I've already recalled the members of your patrol team. I'm sorry if I'm interrupting your plans, but I'm afraid this can't wait, and I have chosen to send _you_. You being there will stop certain disagreeable individuals from giving the team any grief.

"Ranger Weasley, you will be the intelligence officer for this mission. Those vampires should have known about our reaction to their kidnapping an Auror. There isn't a vampire in existence whom Ranger Potter can't crush like a bug, so I want to know where they got the confidence to pull this stunt. I've already temporarily reassigned your projects at the Citadel to someone else."

"Yes sir, but what about Hermione and Ginny? We need to send them word that we'll be missing the wedding. They'll be back later today, but I don't want them to worry about us in the meantime."

"I can't spare anyone, but I'll go myself."

"Thanks, Commander."

"Don't mention it. It's the least I can do," Faust said, before striding away.

Maaike heaved a strained sigh. "Well, I guess we'd better gear up. The sooner we got over there, the better."

Harry laid a hand on her shoulder. "If any of those Ministry idiots try to insinuate that you didn't train the Aurors properly, I'll give them a piece of my mind."

"I appreciate that, but I can't help but feel that I haven't prepared them properly."

Ron shook his head. Maaike was being a bit too hard on herself. "We don't know for sure exactly how things happened. If the Auror was alone, unprepared, and outnumbered more than three to one, it's hardly surprising that the vampires got the better of him. And you weren't there, so there really isn't anything you could have done about it."

They continued towards their equipment storage cells in silence. Harry and Maaike took a different turn, since Martial Division lockers were located in another corridor.

"Meet you in the maintenance bay, all right?" Ron called after them, and received affirmative answers.

He changed as quickly as possible and selected the equipment most suited to detecting, tracking, and killing vampires. Even though they would be superfluous in Harry's presence, they would come in handy if Harry was otherwise occupied and unable to follow the aura trails left by the vampires. Then he took a few moments to gaze at a recent picture of his children, with Ron Junior being held upright by his two sisters, fidgeting and drooling but still looking adorable, before heading towards the maintenance bay.

Harry was already there, talking to Rachel Esklove while a more junior artificer was scurrying all over the dorsal surface of the _Draco_, which was the second of the three new Constellation Class Cruisers. A fourth one, the _Monoceros_, was nearly finished, and the fifth and sixth ones, which would be called the _Pegasus _and the _Phoenix_, had yet to be built. Outwardly the new ships looked exactly like the older ones, but they were packed with improved weapons and detection equipment, and had a power source that didn't need replenishment for up to six years, depending on how intensively it was used. Ron hadn't been too keen on the name and had been about to protest, when Harry pointed out that they couldn't let Malfoy influence them from beyond the grave. In fact, they had taken to jokingly calling it the _Malfoy_.

"Do we have a ship?" Ron called out to Harry.

"We'll be taking the _Malfoy_," Harry called back.

"Hey, Ron, what's this all about?" Rolf Larsson's voice echoed through the maintenance bay. "My goddaughter was very disappointed that I couldn't take her to the zoo anymore. Not to mention that Lilia was pissed off that I couldn't keep an eye on her kids for the afternoon, since Heidi's in Shamballah for the wedding. Good thing Claire Montoya could watch them. Damn, I get transferred to Potter's crew and the next thing I know I'm whisked away from my leave at will."

"Emergency, mate," Ron said, turning around and walking towards him. "An Auror disappeared in England, and evidence points to vampires. I'm sure we'll be back here in a heartbeat."

"Famous last words," said Maaike, who had appeared in the entryway accompanied by Rashid Farouk and Tariq ben-Hamoud. The two Middle-Eastern wizards chuckled in response to her comment.

Rolf frowned. "What vampire would dare cross us, nowadays? We killed most of them these last few years. The only older ones alive … undead … whatever, are the ones who can control their impulses. Surely any of those who've slipped through our fingers would know better than to draw attention to themselves by kidnapping an Auror."

"That's what we're going to find out," Ron said.

* * *

x

* * *

Ginny hadn't been pleased when Commander Faust delivered his message, but she realised the necessity of immediate action. In the impressive temple—which, according to Hermione, very much resembled Saint Peter's Basilica in Rome—she had intended to sit in one of the pew boxes up front. Now that Harry and Ron weren't there, she and Hermione had chosen to sit in a balcony situated in one of the four pillars that supported the temple's main dome. They sat down in the second row, leaving the front one vacant for the bride's real family. There were also a third and fourth bench, though those probably wouldn't be used. Looking around, Ginny saw that she and Hermione wouldn't stand out in the crowd, since the mainstream Etti fashion in Shamballah wasn't all too different from what humans wore in Concordia. Then there were the fashions of the many other races living in Concordia, all of which had representatives present.

They were soon joined by Heidi and her kids, who had entered through one of the side entrances to avoid the thousands of onlookers. Even though Robert, Henry, and Westley were technically the groom's family, Heidi had still chosen to sit in the balcony on the bride's side, since the boys would be much more at ease with people they knew well. The moment she saw Ginny, Sissi broke away from her mother and toddled over as fast as her little legs would carry her, looking absolutely darling in her navy blue dress that was a miniature of her mother's. She placed her little hands on Ginny's knees and looked up hopefully. "Danny?"

"No sweetheart, Danny isn't here."

That clearly wasn't the answer the little girl had wanted to hear, and she tried to assert herself, folding her arms resolutely across. "Danny!"

"I can't go get him, either."

Sissi's big brown eyes filled with moisture and her little lips began to tremble. Then she began to wail loudly, prompting Heidi to pick her up and try to comfort her. It didn't help, though, and Ginny saw many of the people below craning their necks to see what was going on.

"I doubt Molly will be having an easier time with Danny," Hermione pointed out. "Both he and Sissi start behaving this way when they're separated for more than two days. I've always thought it to be odd how attached they are to one another. I think they might have a magical connection."

A cold concern gripped Ginny's heart. When Heidi had taken her daughter and the boys to Austria for a four-day visit to her relatives about a month ago, Danny had started to behave very restlessly after two days. And many times before that, he had shown signs of stress whenever Ginny chose to keep her children at home for some extended family time. "Do you really think so?"

Hermione nodded.

"Give Sissi to me, Aunt Heidi," Henry piped up, and as she didn't seem to be having any success with calming her daughter down, Heidi sat down next to him on the padded bench and transferred Sissi over to his lap. Henry then wrapped his arms around his little sister, tenderly rested his head on top of hers and began rocking her back and forth ever so gently. Within moments, Sissi's wails abated and her eyelids began to droop slightly.

Ginny wondered how he did that. He seemed to have a calming influence on those he chose to comfort, just like his mother.

Heidi sighed tiredly as she slid closer to Ginny. "I wouldn't mind if she naps through the ceremony. She's barely slept a wink all night, and she kept me up too. I had to use some makeup to hide the circles under my eyes."

Ginny had been about to reply that she too had been up all night, but for naughtier reasons, when she bit her tongue as she remembered that this was Heidi, and not Gudrun, Hermione, or any of her other female friends she talked to about those things. Heidi had sensed this behaviour in all her friends at one time or another and asked them not to walk around her on eggshells anymore, but most continued to do so for fear that she'd break down and start lamenting Wolfe's absence, which happened from time to time in spite of Heidi's best efforts to hold her head high.

Mimicking Heidi's sigh, Ginny hunched over a bit in the bench, placed her elbow on her knee and supported her chin with her hand. She had hoped that the she and Harry would be able to have a repeat performance at home, before she left for her patrol mission, but that wasn't to be. If she crossed paths with those vampires during her patrol mission, she'd make them wish they had never been sired.

"Xander, you will sit down and be a good boy, or else!" Ginny heard Gudrun's angry voice hiss behind them. "And stop plucking at my dress."

Gudrun, her children, and her grandchild had arrived with only minutes to spare for the start of the ceremony. The children were all dressed up nicely yet simply, in Concordian fashion. The secondborn, Nathan, was leading his family to the front bench, with eight-year-old Rachel taking up the rear, carrying her two-year-old niece.

"But Mum, it's so pretty, and it makes you look so beautiful. I just got to touch it," Xander said ever so sweetly, as Gudrun dragged him behind his older brother and planted him down in the middle of the front bench and guided Buttercup to sit down next to him. Rachel giggled at her little brother's statement while she put Oopsie between Xander and Buttercup, before closing the row of children. Ginny too had to chuckle at Xander's cheeky reply and the fairly convincing look of hurt of his face. For a five-year-old, it was pretty good acting.

The lad was right about the dress, though. Gudrun's ensemble was showy in such a way as to look effortlessly simple. A sleek sheath gown of very pale blue silk hung to the floor, just hiding her shoes, with floor-length hanging sleeves of sheer silk in the same colour. Above the scooped neckline was a necklace of inch-wide squares of beaten platinum; a belt of the same material hung low on her hips. Her hair was coiled in an elaborate knot on the top of her head and hung down in the back.

"Nice try, but you're not as smooth as your daddy yet," Gudrun huffed, though failing to keep her stern expression. Then she turned to Ginny. "Would you keep a special eye on this little rascal for me?"

"My pleasure."

"Don't let him charm you into letting your guard down, or you'll be indulging his every whim before you know it."

Ginny smiled. "I'll be careful."

"Thanks. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go back for the grand entrance. Protocol, you know."

"Have fun," Heidi said.

"Not likely," Gudrun grumbled, before hurrying off.

Moments after their mother left, the Kelly children turned in their bench to face the Wolfe children. Buttercup waved cheerfully at Westley, who had become her principal playmate after being absorbed into a girl-group consisting of her, Holly, Naomi Ramos and the slightly older Faust twins. All of them were very close to one another in age and would start school in the same year. Ginny had thought that Westley would be happier playing with Inigo Montoya and Tony Ramos, who were about eight months older than he was. But he seemed perfectly at ease with the girls, who doted on him and treated him like a prince.

"You look very handsome, Robert," Rachel said, gazing at Robert with a glassy look in her eyes.

Ginny glanced at Robert, who was looking distinctly uncomfortable. He cleared his voice, much like his father always used to do, before replying. "You look lovely too."

Though Robert was clearly just trying to be polite, Rachel absolutely beamed at the compliment. It was obvious that she had a huge crush on him, much like her older sister had had a huge crush on Nicolai at the same age. However, compared to Nicolai, Robert was a very normal child. Compared to _other_ children he was far from normal, since the absence of his father had brought about a sense of responsibility in him that was alien to most boys his age. He'd been Henry's mentor and protector even before Galatea's death and Wolfe's departure, and it had only intensified afterwards, extending to Sissi when she was born, and later to Westley.

This forced maturity also explained his extreme dedication to learning martial arts, which he was getting really good at. A year ago an old Chinese witch who ran a magical dry-cleaning business in Concordia and who happened to be an old friend of Lei Li's, had approached Robert and asked him if he were interested in learning Kung Fu, or _Wing Chun_, as Robert would always patiently correct people referring to his style by the deceptive generic term for Chinese martial arts. According to his proud teacher, Robert was the best student she had ever had, learning the techniques twice as fast as even the better ones among her former students. On the other hand, the Olsen brothers had been very sorry to see their star pupil leave.

Ginny had tried the style herself, since the fact that it had been developed a woman had really appealed to her. According to Ranger Khan, it was a very simple and rudimentary style, since it had been developed to produce effective fighters in five to seven years, rather than the fifteen to twenty years it generally took to master other Chinese martial arts. But it had proven to be a bit too complicated for her, so she returned to more straightforward methods of hand-to-hand combat.

"Would you like to sit next to me, Robert?" Rachel's hopeful question brought Ginny out of her musings.

"I don't think so. I mean, the front bench is only for the bride's family."

"I'm sure Mum and Dad won't mind," Rachel said quickly.

"And you're going to be family anyway when you marry Rachel," Xander interjected, turning to his sister with a wicked gleam in his eyes.

"Shut up, squirt!" his older sister snapped.

"I read it in your diary," Xander taunted, and continued in a falsetto. "Dear diary, I can't wait to be Rachel Wolfe."

"Y-You can't r-read," Rachel stammered, though she sudden paleness of her face suggested otherwise.

"Can too! Write something and I'll prove it." Xander challenged, before turning back to Robert. "She wants to _marry_ you and have your babies. Robert and Rachel, sitting in a tree, K.I.S.S.I.N.G…"

"Shut up," Robert growled in a way so menacingly that Ginny got goose bumps and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. He was unmistakably charging up and stirring his magic, and Xander instinctively knew it too, because he immediately blanched and fell silent. "Your sister's diary is private," Robert continued, "and if you ever read it again, I'll ask Aunt Gudrun to have a shot at you myself before letting her punish you. And besides, a guy could do a lot worse than Rachel."

Having said that, he vaulted over the back of the bench and landed between Buttercup and Rachel. He demonstratively took her hand in his and held it, casting a warning look at Xander. It raised Ginny's opinion of the boy another few notches, since she knew there weren't many nine-year-old boys who would set aside their own embarrassment at learning about the affection of a girl to save that same girl a whole lot of mortification. Of course, he probably knew that none of the boys would dare to tease _him_, which made it less of a sacrifice, but it still showed that he cared a great deal about his friend's feelings. Meanwhile, Rachel looked like she was about to faint from sheer delight.

"You shouldn't read anyone's diary, you know!" Hermione told Xander admonishingly.

"Why not?" Xander challenged.

"Because it violates a person's privacy."

"What does violate mean?"

"Right now it means disturbing something."

"What's privacy?"

"The need to keep things for yourself," Hermione answered patiently, leading Ginny to believe that Hermione had already touched on the issue with Raina. Ginny wouldn't have been able to simplify the abstract concept of privacy so well for a child, and she filed it away for future use.

"You've disturbed Rachel's need to keep things for herself, and that's wrong," Hermione continued. "It's wrong because you made her very upset by doing it. Now maybe you don't understand _why_ she's so upset about it, but that doesn't matter. Writing in that diary and keeping it a secret meant a lot to her. You don't like it when people do things to you that upset _you_, right?"

Xander shrugged.

Hermione's eyebrows went up. "Oh? You wouldn't be upset if you mum and dad took away all your toys?"

"Why take my toys away?"

"If they hear that you read Rachel's diary…" Hermione trailed off, letting Xander connect the dots himself.

"You won't tell, will you?" Xander asked fearfully.

"No, but Rachel might."

Xander turned to his sister. "You won't tell on me, will you?"

"As long as you promise never to read my diary again," Rachel said absently, briefly surprising Ginny with her leniency. Then it occurred to Ginny that Rachel's senses were close to overloading due to her proximity to Robert, impairing coherent thought. Or maybe she realised that she wouldn't be holding hands with the boy of her dreams if it hadn't been for her pesky little brother. That could cause a girl to be very forgiving as well.

"I swear!"

"What about an apology?" Hermione pressed.

"I'm really sorry," Xander said, with a remorseful puppy dog look that that would thaw the coldest of hearts. Gudrun's warning certainly hadn't been exaggerated. Whether he was being deliberate or not, Xander really was a little charmer, and would probably become a heartbreaker too later on in life. Nathan, on the other hand, was more like his uncle and namesake. He was polite and well-behaved, only getting in trouble while trying to get his little brother out of it.

"Whew, just in time," an excited voice squeaked, and soon Rosie dashed onto the balcony, stopping dead in her tracks when she saw her best friend and her cousin sitting together and holding hands. She beamed a smile at Rachel and Robert and signalled unsubtly with two thumbs up, causing both of them to flush red and stare at the burgundy carpeted floor. Jasmine soon appeared as well, followed by fourteen-year-old Charlie Junior, who reluctantly dragged his feet as he followed his mother. His expression suggested that he thought he was there for a funeral.

Ginny's heart went out to him. She knew what it was like to have unrequited feelings for someone, though his chances had been much slimmer than hers from the very beginning and had practically been shattered when the love of his life got pregnant by his unwitting rival. Well, probably not so unwitting, since one of Nicolai's personalities was an expert at reading facial expression and body language, not matter how subtle. But Ginny doubted if Mary knew that Charlie had nourished a pre-adolescent crush on her at age ten, which grew into more as hormones were factored into the equation, and that despite Oopsie's birth. Rosie sat down next to Westley, and Jasmine now completed the row on the second bench, which now nearly completely full, occupied by four adults and four children. Turning around to see where Charlie was at, Ginny saw him slumped way back on the fourth bench.

"Why aren't you sitting with the groom's family?" Heidi asked Jasmine.

"Same reason you didn't take the boys to sit with the groom's family. I don't know anyone there. Besides, Elena's three sisters brought their husbands, their daughters with _their_ husbands, and their grandchildren—you know how Italians are. And along with Aria and 'The Buccafusca Godmother', the groom's balcony is packed. Heck, they've even squeezed in one of Nicolai's uncles—a non-criminal illegitimate son of Ivan the Impaler's—and his wife and daughter."

Ginny took a good look at the balcony across there and saw that there had to be at between forty and fifty people crammed on four benches and a handful of extra chairs. She saw Aria and a massive puffy-cheeked older woman sitting in the middle of the front bench. There were still two open spots next to Aria, and Ginny assumed that they was being held for Elena and Ironheart.

"Excuse me, is this the bride's family's balcony?"

As one, everyone turned to the source of the unfamiliar voice with a funny accent. It was tall man with grey hair and a moderately trimmed grey beard, wearing an old-fashioned and decidedly Muggle black suit. Her father had bough a second-hand one once, and if Ginny remembered correctly, it was called a tailcoat. He looked somehow familiar.

"That's right. And who might you be?" Heidi asked.

Ginny saw Jasmine's eyes focus on the man in the same way that Harry's focussed on people when he was scanning their thoughts. Less than in second later, her sister-in-law gasped. "No, that's impossible. Gudrun's Muggle-born!"

The man nodded. "That is what she was categorised as. However, I am not sure the term is fitting, even if her mother is a Muggle and her father a Squib. My name is Njall Magnusson. Though I haven't done much to deserve the title, I am Gudrun's father."

* * *

x

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **There were a lot of outside references in this chapter. I'll disclaim them in the next chapter, but first I'd like to see whether they'll be spotted. ;-) And before anyone points it out to me, I _do_ realise that the whole mineralogy monologue is out of character for Harry. This chapter is very long and packed with information, so you might have skimmed over the explanation I gave for the origin of Harry's knowledge. Now on to the review answers.

**hootild**: The gems are needed to make wands function better.

**Gogirl**: I think you meant to say that Holly transported Westley to the Earth Realm, right? Anyway, she didn't. She dropped him off at Shamballah and had Ironheart take him from there. As for pairing Westley up with Buttercup, I don't know. In case you haven't noticed, Buttercup has a lot of competition. ;-)

**Lipton**: Glad to see you think my insanity aides my creativity.

**lluvatar**: There!

**Jake**: Writing is therapeutic for me. I'm one of those people with an overactive imagination who talk to themselves. However, even since I started writing I seldom do so anymore. I guess it's the outlet I needed. So I mostly write for myself, though like most writers and wannabe writers like myself I have ego issues, which accounts for the review hunger.

**Kristus Vesanus**: Ah, the blessing.

**ritter**: I think your question was answered when you read the next chapter. As for whether he'll survive the story…

**jibro**: Not to worry. Harry will discover more powers.

**Elric Magus**: How did you like it?

**Fragarach**: I thought it was appropriate as well.

**Saint Mike**: I like to include a bit of philosophy into the stories every now and then.

**Lady of Masbolle**: Yes, the Brinell scale is very real, and it is much more accurate than the Moh scale when measuring a certain mineral's hardness.

**Athena McGonagall**: The reason for the time-jump is because 'not much' happens in the meantime. I guess I could have written about some of Wolfe's actions with the resistance fighters, but aside from that there was nothing to write about. Besides, the action chapters are drawing closer now. After Chapter 21 all hell will break loose! And about Wolfe being too noble for his own good, you have no idea…

**Foxfur**: LOL, isn't it a bit early to be thinking about triangles?

**RinnaMarie**: I'm still working on an idea for a novel and gathering information. I've only started doing so about a year ago. I _am_ serious about writing a novel, but I have nothing concrete yet. I'll need to do a lot more reading and practicing before actually writing my own novel. Yeah, I know about the character excess, and I won't repeat the mistake in my potential original novel. I also realised that I need to limit the useless chit chat, but I reckon part of that will solve itself with fewer characters. It'll go a long way towards streamlining the story.

So you have a literary agent? Does that mean you're a published author?


	20. Returning Fathers

Chapter 20

**Returning Fathers**

"If you're Mum's dad, then you're our grandpa," Nathan observed in his usual quiet voice.

"Why don't you live with Grandma?" Rachel asked.

Njall took the time to gather his thoughts before answering her question. "Most men fancy women, and most women fancy men. But there are some women who, for some reason, don't fancy men, and men who don't fancy women. After your mother was born, I found out that I was one of those men."

"Oh, so you're like Captain Sharif and that bloke who does Mum's hair," Xander piped up, showing remarkable understanding and memory retention for someone so young. Ginny had been there when Gudrun had tried to explain things to her children after they saw Padma and Wendy behaving rather affectionately, and had taken old Captain Sharif and Sergio as another example.

Njall cast an inquiring glance at Heidi, who smiled and nodded.

"Yes, I suppose I am."

Rachel shrugged. "Oh, okay. You can sit with us, Grandpa." She patted the spot next to her on the bench.

"Thank you, Rachel."

"You know who I am?"

Njall smiled. "Of course I do. Your grandmother showed me pictures of each of you." He nodded towards Nathan on the far side of the bench. "That's Nathaniel, with Xander next to him, and Buttercup and Oprah are in the middle. The young man next to them is also in many of the pictures your grandmother has. Robert, isn't it?" he asked, extending his hand.

Robert reached across Mary to shake it. "Yes sir … and you sure don't shake hands like a fairy. Good grip."

"Robert!" Heidi exclaimed in outrage.

"I'm sorry, sir. I meant homosexual."

Njall laughed. "He clearly meant no offence. It's okay, Miss…"

"Gravenstein," Heidi offered.

"Indeed? German or Austrian branch?"

"Austrian."

"Ah, then we're a bit more distantly related. My grandmother was from the German branch."

"If you are a Squib, it means your parents were purebloods, right?" Hermione asked.

Njall offered her a wry grin. "Too much so, I'm afraid. Until my mother—who is half Danish and half German—my father's side of the family hasn't imported non-Icelandic blood for at least two hundred years. Muggle or Muggle-born blood was _completely_ out of the question. Small wonder that one in four of all my cousins and second cousins on my father's side are Squibs."

Hermione nodded. "That's the reason I asked. I read a report about the high percentage of Squib births among Icelandic pure-bloods. It also said that bigotry there is much worse than it ever was in England, even though there are no violent expressions of it. Half-bloods are second class citizens, and Muggle-borns are encouraged to leave the island."

"I'm afraid this is true, though I have no idea why. Iceland has always been a closely knit society, but the Muggles have had far less trouble coming to terms with the multicultural reality. Some of their legislation towards non-white immigrants from outside the European Union is still dubious. It took me ages to sign on a Chinese undersea mapper for my ship because of it. But it is nothing compared to the Icelandic wizardry's xenophobia."

"So how come Gudrun never knew you're a Squib?"

"Verna didn't know either, until I told her a month ago," Njall explained. "That's when she told me about Mary's wedding and that she would kill me if I didn't attend. I sent a letter to the groom and Gudrun's husband through the Canadian Magical Government's long distance mail service, and here I am. Nicolai and Mr Kelly thought it would be a great surprise for Mary. I visited her every year in Canada, and I'm happy to say that we got along famously. I _have_ missed her these last ten years."

The sound of trumpets heralding the start of the ceremony cut off any further interrogation Hermione might have wanted to conduct. Ginny sat up straighter and gazed towards the main entrance of the temple. Nicolai, Ironheart, and an old Etti priestess wearing brilliantly white ceremonial robes with gold trimmings around the sleeves and hem, were calmly walking towards the main altar, with the people in the pews rising as Nicolai passed them.

He was the only one in the wedding party who was more conventionally armed. His etched steel breastplate, matching shoulder armour and broadsword were relics from a time when Shamballah had not yet embraced pacifism. A long mantle of midnight blue velvet, trimmed in silver embroidery, was laid over the shoulder armour and hung nearly to the floor. A matching sleeveless surcoat with a high collar was worn underneath the breastplate, and the quilted silk sleeves of the gambeson underneath the surcoat could be seen. Plain dark blue trousers were tucked into leather boots dyed a dark blue to match. Nicolai also had his wand, in a slim sheath hung from the same belt that also held his sword. A simple silvery circlet with an abstract design of twining vines and leaves rested on his brow, completing his regal look.

Ironheart wore a sleeveless surcoat of dark brown velvet that was split down the front, back and sides. Bands of gold embroidery at the neck, armholes, splits and the bottom hem decorated the surcoat, which was worn over a shirt of a deep wine silk with an embroidered high collar and black trousers that were tucked into his boots. His wand was in a sheath hung from his elaborately tooled leather belt. A long cloak of green velvet lined in more of the deep wine silk was edged in gold cord and clasped with a round gold brooch set with onyx.

Much to the surprise of the priestess, but not Ironheart, Nicolai stepped off the deep purple carpet when they had nearly reached the altar, and headed towards someone in the crowd. Ginny recognised Mayumi in full dress regalia. Her formal wear, like much of Japanese wizarding dress, was recognisable as Japanese in style, but also diverged a bit from traditional Muggle designs Ginny had seen. The many layers of wide-sleeved kimono were in various shades of yellow and gold, and the folds of each layer were pulled back just enough to see the next layer peeking out from behind. The outermost robe that trailed along the floor was of a heavy silk brocade in a rich yellow, embroidered with swirls of gold that seemed to shift independently of the angle of the light. Her long black hair was pulled back from her face and rolled underneath itself in a look reminiscent of the bow at the back of the elaborate obi that belted her kimono.

Nicolai greeted both Gavin and Mayumi warmly and familiarly before continuing towards the altar, leaving their immediate neighbours looking at them curiously, probably wondering about their station.

Finally, Nicolai, Ironheart and the priestess stopped in front of a raised platform, which held an altar that seemed to have been carved out of a huge block of marble. It was surmounted by a majestic bronze canopy that was supported by four gigantic twisted some sixty feet high, each of covered with gilded bas-relief figures. The old lady appeared to say some prayers before ascending the steps of the platform, followed by Nicolai and Ironheart. She took her place behind the altar, while Nicolai and his grandfather remained on the right-hand side in front of it, now facing towards the main entrance.

Almost as if on cue, which it probably was, Gudrun and Elena Ironheart appeared at the main entrance and began their long walk towards the altar. Elena's garb was as elegant as Gudrun's. She wore a set of matching trousers and a fitted knee-length and long-sleeved tunic in a very dark burgundy silk, with soft half-boots in leather dyed to match. Over that was a floor-length sleeveless open robe of sheer grey silk, delicately embroidered in a pattern of grey and gold. Her hair was swept up and held in place by a pair of small gold and silver combs.

When they reached and ascended the altar, Elena stood with her father and son, while Gudrun stood alone on the left side of the altar, though Ginny was sure that she would soon be joined by Matt and Mary, who would probably appear at the temple's entrance any moment now.

Her suspicions were confirmed as music swept through the temple. It wasn't organ music or violin music, like so many wizards and Muggles used back home. This music came from dozens of flutes being played across the temple, each contributing their part to a truly enchanting symphony. A sudden gasp from the crowd that momentarily drowned out the music prompted Ginny to look back at the main entrance, where Matt and Mary had appeared.

Ginny knew that Nicolai's cousin Regina had spent a substantial amount of time in Shamballah, learning about the diverse fashions of the many humanoid races. Matt's outfit was a design she had learned from the tailors of the small Light Elf community. He wore a simple layered robe of white silk brocade with slim long sleeves and a high collar, belted with a sash of grey silk. An ornament of twisted silver wire curled around the neck, and a similar piece decorated the sash. Over this was an open robe of grey silk with wide sleeves slit back to reveal the sleeves of the robe underneath.

Mary held his left arm. A long cloak of creamy white silk hung loosely from her shoulders down to the floor and trailed out behind her, and was pulled back just enough to show off her floor-length gown. Made of snowy white silk, it was a simple sheath design that showed off her perfect figure. A ruff of sheer silk embroidered and carefully wired so that it would fan out around her head and neck was tucked into the gown's low-cut scoop neckline. The front of the gown was accented by a panel of silk that hung from the bottom of the neckline to the knees, and was decorated with a scrolling floral design worked in silvery-gold embroidery and set with tiny blue diamonds. Her hair was pulled back from her face and arranged in an intricate knot that fanned out from the back of her head like a stylized rose. A diadem of three strands of white gold chain held a triangle of white gold wire mesh against her forehead; the mesh was set with more of the tiny blue diamonds, and three blue pearl drops hung from the bottom point and sides of the triangle. White silk pumps and a pair of fingerless gloves that rose halfway up her upper arms completed the ensemble.

In his right hand Matt held the Archidiaconus sceptre, which seemed to be the cause of many murmurs and pointing in the temple.

"Nicolai told me about the sceptre last night. He found out about it in some ancient scrolls. It was made in the Mirror Realm. It's the heirloom of the old Princely House of Astirian. By ancient law, Matt is the rightful heir to the Principality of Astirian. Astirian's nobles lost executive power ages ago, not long after the imperial selection process failed to pick an imperial heir, because the nobles of the fiefs derived their rights to rule the imperial family. The person styling herself as the current duchess is someone from one of those noble families who wanted to regain that power." Hermione whispered this all in one go, before taking a deep breath. "Anyway, this means that Mary's a princess in her own right, just like she would have been back home, had the Muggles known about the real Stone of Destiny. Nicolai told me that some of the staunch traditionalists were having trouble with Mary's lack of noble bloodline here in the Mirror Realm, but seeing that sceptre will surely shut them up. Not that it would have mattered to him if she _had_ been a commoner."

"Oh, Mary looks so pretty!" Ginny heard Rosie say.

"Look at her … all grown up," Njall said in a strangled voice. Ginny saw that he was having trouble keeping his emotions in check, and shifting her gaze to the altar, she saw that Gudrun had conjured a handkerchief from somewhere and was furiously dabbing at her eyes. Nicolai seemed enraptured by the sight of his wife to be, and Ironheart was beaming, proud that his grandson was marrying that vision of beauty.

Accompanied by the melodic whistling of the flutes, Matt and Mary edged ever closer to the altar until they finally reached it. Before surrendering his place to Nicolai, Matt handed the sceptre to Mary. Then he stepped aside, allowing Nicolai to take Mary's arm. Mary quickly leaned over and kissed her father on the cheek before he could join her mother on the altar's left side. He managed a trembling smile before striding to his wife's side and accepting the handkerchief she held out to him.

For the visiting friends and relatives' benefit, Nicolai had created earpieces that offered instant translation to any language heard. It allowed Ginny and the others to follow the proceedings and understand what was being said. It was much like weddings back home, with the priestess stressing the importance of the ceremony. Only she did not limit it to Nicolai and Mary themselves, but dragged the fate of the entire realm into the mix, which made Mary look decidedly queasy. Then Ironheart, Elena, Matt, and Gudrun each had to perform short rituals with one of the elements, much like her sisters-in-law had done at her wedding. They also had to light four candles on a four-pronged candlestick, the number four being the number of completion, stability and predictability, as well as the representation of all earthly things. After performing these tasks, they were dismissed from the high altar and moved to rejoin their respective balconies.

The priestess paused the proceedings for a moment to allow the parental figures to reach their seats in the balconies. Soon, Ginny heard Matt and Gudrun's footsteps echoing up the stairs. Ginny saw Njall turn towards the stairs, and she did the same, eager to find out what Gudrun's reaction would be. Moments later, Gudrun and Matt appeared in the entryway, and Gudrun's eyes went wide as her gaze fell upon her father.

"Surprise," he said awkwardly.

Gudrun's face contorted in every manner as the shock of seeing what she believed to be her Muggle father in Shamballah.

"I didn't tell your mother until about a month ago, but I'm a Squib," Njall said, and Ginny saw that the movements of his mouth no longer coincided with the words she was hearing. Nicolai's invention apparently wasn't limited by Etti to English translating. "And the real reason I've never really been a part of your life was because constant travelling was a way to facilitate my self-denial. There is something else I've told your mother only a month ago."

Gudrun's shock had slowly abated as her father spoke, and a small smile had appeared on her face. "You're gay, aren't you?"

A look of surprise came over Njall's face. "How did you know? You mother never saw it coming."

"Mum's never been to your apartment. You had all these muscle magazines and male underwear catalogues lying around, but you never worked out or ordered any of the underwear. Your collection of Cher albums also made me suspicious, but only in hindsight. I was too young to put two and two together at the time."

"I'm glad you're taking this so well. I was afraid that Nicolai and your husband had misjudged what your reaction would be."

Gudrun turned to her husband. "You know about this?"

Matt nodded. "Yep, and I found out who your paternal grandparents are and looked them up on the tapestry. We're kissing cousins, sugarplum."

"You have got to be kidding!" Gudrun groaned.

"Don't worry, I am. Given the pure-blood ancestry on your dad's side it was impossible for us _not_ to be related, but our most recent common ancestor died two hundred and fifty years ago."

Gudrun seemed relieved at this, and turned back to her father. "It's all right, Dad. I'm pleasantly surprised to see you here." Then she led Matt to the front of the bench, and all the children scooted over to the far side to make room for them.

"I've seen the pictures and heard the stories from Verna, but your husband looks even better in person," Njall said, eyeing Matt appreciatively as he drew his robes tautly around himself before sitting, marking his behind clearly.

Matt winked. "It's my electrifying personality. You ought to see me in something that _really _shows off my body."

Gudrun slapped her husband's arm playfully. "Honestly, it's bad enough that you flirt with my mother whenever you think my back is turned. Don't flirt with my _father_ too! Now pay attention to the ceremony."

"Yes dear."

"They're just kidding, Robert. Daddy doesn't _really_ flirt with grandma," Rachel said, patting Robert's arm reassuringly. The horrified look the boy was giving his future in-laws was priceless.

Ginny suppressed a giggle. Harry and Ron weren't prejudiced, but they'd still be uneasy next to someone like Gudrun's father. In fact, neither of them had ever exposed their behind to Captain Sharif if they could help it. Matt on the other hand, was 'at ease with his sexuality,' as Hermione had called his relaxed attitude. He didn't fancy blokes, but unlike Harry and Ron, he wouldn't have too much trouble kissing another man on a dare or something without retching.

"Oopsie … light," Sissi said suddenly. She had awoken again and was pointing at her second most favourite playmate. "Mummy…Oopsie … light!"

Heidi lifted Sissi off Henry's lap and placed her in her own. "What light, sweetheart?" she asked, though her lip movements told Ginny that she was speaking German.

Sissi fell silent, yawned and went back to sleep in her mother's arms, allowing Heidi to turn her attention back to the ceremony.

Before the ceremony could continue, the priestess actually had to clear her throat rather loudly to regain the attention of the young couple, who had been far too absorbed with gazing into each other's eyes. Mary and Nicolai sheepishly returned their attention to the priestess as good-natured laughter echoed through the temple. Then the priestess rang a silvery bell, which was the cue for Aberforth and Louise to do their part for the ceremony. About thirty seconds later—which was much longer than planned and had sparked a momentary concern in Ginny that the geriatric couple forgot about their cue—Aberforth and Louise appeared.

Louise carried a pair of wedding bands on a plush, silvery-velvet covered pillow with gold tassels at the corners, while Aberforth carried the same jewel-encrusted goblet Matt and Gudrun had used for the continuation ritual of the Consanguinity Charm, which reminded Ginny that Nicolai and Mary had yet to undergo the ritual. They hadn't been sure about conducting the ritual, since little Oprah was fourth in line to the vault—after her mother and two uncles but before her two aunts—and would probably shift even father down the line, provided that Xander and Nathan had children or if at least one of Mary's future children would be a boy. But Matt had expressed his desire to let the charm cover at least two whole generations after him. It was meant to be a backup plan in case a great misfortune befell the family in the future, similar to when a Malfoy had all of the Archidiaconus save Matt's mother killed to advance his own prospects of inheriting Caer Sidi and the vault.

"Now, before exchanging vows and rings, His Imperial Majesty Nicolai and Her Highness Maria will perform a ritual, which grants Her Imperial Highness Oprah and any future offspring the passage to the House of Astirian's greatest treasures," the priestess said, explaining Aberforth and Louise's appearance to the largely bemused locals who hadn't expected any ceremonial proceedings that included the goblet. This brought murmurs among the crowd, and many of them looked up at the bride's balcony inquisitively. "His Imperial Majesty and Her Highness will now both hold the Sceptre of Astirian, which will draw a drop of blood from each and the drops of blood will join inside the sceptre and drip into the goblet as one."

Smiling, Nicolai and Mary grabbed the sceptre, both holding on to it at the same spot just below the large red diamond, he in his right hand and she in her left, interlacing their fingers. Aberforth lay his right hand on the diamond and held the chalice beneath the sceptre with his left. He muttered an incantation in Draconian—which Nicolai's invention _didn't_ translate, for some reason—and the huge diamond began to glow like a small red sun, reflecting on Mary's blue-diamond-set diadem and giving the small diamonds a purplish glow for a few moments. Then the light died away, and there was a clicking sound. Both Mary and Nicolai's faces remained neutral as the sceptre stung them and drew a bit of their blood into itself. Gemstones along the sceptre's shaft shimmered in turn as the drop of blood travelled along a channel on its inside. Then a droplet formed at the bottom, which quickly fell into the goblet. The potion's reaction to the final ingredient came in a whooshing sound and an amber puff of smoke.

Aberforth took the sceptre over from Nicolai and Mary, and handed the chalice to Nicolai, who brought it to Mary's lips and allowed her to take a sip. Then Nicolai passed the goblet to Mary, and she held it while he took his mouthful. After Nicolai had swallowed, Aberforth took the goblet back from Mary.

"The continuation ritual of the Consanguinity Charm is complete," he said, and as the words left his mouth, little Oprah began to glow in a warm amber light.

"Oopsie light? That's what Sissi said, wasn't it?" Hermione whispered excitedly, nodding at Oprah, who was swinging her feet back and forth impatiently. "Oh my, she can see things before they happen, Heidi!"

"Can't say I'm surprised," Jasmine said with a huge grin on her face. "The current living Diamond Seer, Great-grandma Stella, is Sissi's great-great-grandmother. Couple that to the fact that many of Heidi's relatives have an active inner eye, and that Heidi's great-great-great-grandmother was also a Diamond Seer, the odds that the gift would manifest itself in Sissi were pretty big. She'll have to go to Ogygia, because when I did research on Seers for Anastasiou once, I learned that only Emerald Seers or better manifest their powers this early. With her pedigree I wouldn't be surprised if she's a Diamond Seer. It _would_ restore the number back to two."

"This isn't the first time, though I didn't realise its significance until now. Two weeks ago she said 'Henry booboo'. I thought she was just babbling, since he was playing in the courtyard and nothing was wrong. But an hour after that he came in with a skinned knee." Heidi glanced at the altar. "Well talk later, they're about to exchange vows!"

Ginny turned her attention back to the altar, where Nicolai and Mary were clasping hands and gazing into each other's eyes again. Aberforth and Louise were still there, with Aberforth holding the goblet and the sceptre and Louise holding the rings on the pillow.

Nicolai took a deep breath before he began to speak. "Mary, I look at you and I see my best friend. When we met, you were the only kid at school ready to accept me even though I was different. You have no idea how happy this made me, for ever since I was four and became aware of just how different I was, I became afraid that I would never find someone who could accept what I have become. But you accepted me, and in your presence I stopped fearing to be myself, and the departure of that fear made me do the many things that contributed to us being here, today. Your passion, energy, and inner beauty inspired me in ways none of my many minds ever imagined. You gave me purpose when I felt I had none. Without you, my soul would be as empty as my mind is full, my heart broken, my being incomplete. I thank the Maker everyday that you were brought into my life, and I thank you for loving me."

Just like on her own wedding day, Ginny had to swallow away a lump in her throat that had formed upon her hearing Nicolai's words. With burning eyes she watched Louise bring the pillow a little closer to make it easier for Nicolai to pick up Mary's ring and place it in her hand.

"Oh, Nicolai…" Mary used her other hand to wipe away her tears. "When was it that I fell in love with you? When we were ten and eleven, or maybe eight and nine? I don't remember, because I've long lost the ability to picture the few weeks after we met when I _hadn't_ been in love with you." A few sniffs briefly interrupted her speech, but she was soon ready to continue. "And when I was a little girl, my grandma used to read me fairytales. Like many other little girls, those fairytales left me with dreams about marrying a prince. You made a miracle happen and made my dreams come true. I may not be a miracle worker like you, but I will pour my heart and soul into making your dreams come true. I love you, Nicolai."

Mary took her band off the pillow and placed it in Nicolai's hand, and their roles in the ceremony now over with, Aberforth bowed and Louise girlishly curtsied before they retreated to whatever antechamber they had come from. It was time for the exchange.

"The wedding ring is the outward and visible symbol of an inward spiritual bond which unites two hearts in love. In their brief lives, His Imperial Majesty and Her Highness have proven to be more than worthy to bear these symbols, in their devotion to one another," the priestess said pleasantly. "That is rare indeed in this day and age, but I believe it bodes well for Shamballah. Your Imperial Majesty, if you please…"

With a sure and steady hand, Nicolai slid Mary's ring on her finger without taking his eyes off hers. "With this ring I thee wed, Maria."

Mary's hand wasn't quite as steady as his, but she managed not drop the ring before sliding it on his finger, and when the task was accomplished she visibly relaxed. "With this ring I thee wed, Nicolai."

"Then you are now, husband and wife." The priestess smiled warmly. "I believe it is customary to kiss the bride, in the realm of your birth."

Mary pulled Nicolai to her by the collar of his tunic and covered his mouth with hers, making Ginny have a flashback of the aftermath of Matt and Gudrun's continuation ritual. It was truly amazing how similar mother and daughter were in that regard.

Matt rose from the bench and began to applaud loudly, and soon everyone in the temple rose and followed his lead. Mary and Nicolai, still locked in their kiss, seemed oblivious to it all. She almost missed the muffled groan that came from Charlie Junior.

* * *

x

* * *

Hermione listened to the beautiful voice of Perse Angelou, who had learned the local language, along with a few local songs in to sing at the wedding. Hermione wasn't wearing Nicolai's translator, so she couldn't understand the lyrics. But that didn't detract from the song's beauty, and the melody coupled with Perse's voice still tugged at Hermione's heartstrings.

She was sorry that Ron had missed the wedding, but she was even sorrier that he wasn't at the reception. Ginny and Heidi had been whisked away by Galatea's younger brothers Jason and Tiresias respectively, leaving Hermione sitting by herself while everyone she knew was dancing. Well … _nearly_ everyone.

The children sat at an adjacent table, playing under Rosie's watchful eye, since Rachel had dragged Robert off to dance. Henry was alternately looking at the crowd and his sketch-pad as he furiously tried to capture the scene on paper. The Kelly brothers and Westley were busy detonating harmless wet-start fireworks, and Buttercup, Oopsie and Sissi were playing with an assortment of dolls Heidi had brought along. Very suitably, the dolls had been attired in wedding gowns, and Heidi had made sure there were several miniature dresses and accessories. The dolls were striding back and forth on the table, modelling the ever-changing accessories the girls made them wear. Even though she had outgrown dolls at a very early age, Hermione still found herself wishing that she'd had a magical set, since having your own fashion show looked like fun. Sissi and Oopsie were having a ball despite the fact that Buttercup would not let them touch the dolls or the dresses for fear that the younger girls would dirty or rip them.

Then her gaze fell on Charlie Junior, who sat a bit further away, slumped in his chair and sulking. The poor boy was heartbroken. Everyone on the balcony had heard his muffled groan as Nicolai and Mary sealed their marriage with a kiss. Hermione's heart went out to him, though she did find his infatuation with Mary a bit extreme. Granted, her beauty rivalled that of part-Veela women, and it _had_ started out as a pre-teen crush.

Deciding that Charlie could use some distraction, she rose from her seat and made her way over to him. "Come on, Charlie, dance with me."

"I don't—" he began to say, but Hermione put her hours of mandatory exercise to use and yanked him to his feet before dragging him on to the dance-floor. He seemed to have no idea what to do, so she placed his right hand on her hip and took his left hand in her right one while she placed her left hand on his shoulder. "Come on, we can dance the waltz to this. I'll lead. You just make sure that you don't trample my feet with yours."

"That's all right, I've had some lessons. I can lead," he answered listlessly.

"Is it _that_ embarrassing to be seen dancing with an old auntie?" Hermione probed teasingly. "Really, you're hurting my feelings."

Charlie lowered his gaze to meet hers. At only fourteen and a half, he was already as tall as his father was. He would probably grow to be as tall as Ron or Max, with Max's powerful build.

"Sorry. I have a lot on my mind."

"Would you like to talk about it?"

"You already know," he said morosely.

Hermione felt her cheeks warm up. She had forgot that Charlie was also a Mind Reader. "But surely you must have known, deep down, that you didn't have a chance with her," she said gently.

"That's just it, Aunt Hermione. I thought she and I were meant to be. When I was eleven, great-great-grandma Stella told me that I'd marry a beautiful long-legged blonde named Maria, who would be a few years older than I."

Suddenly it all made sense. "But don't you think she only told you what you wanted to hear? I mean, aren't beautiful long-legged blondes what most boys dream about?"

"I'm sure she didn't make it up. I was reading her mind," Charlie said, his reddening face telling Hermione that he'd probably broken a restriction by doing that.

"Well, what if there's _another_ beautiful long-legged blonde named Maria out there?"

Charlie looked at her quizzically, and before he could answer her, the music stopped.

"Greetings, everyone, and welcome to His and Her Imperial Majesties' wedding ball," Perse said through a microphone-like device. Then she repeated the same sentence in Etti, adding a lengthy story to it, telling Hermione that she must have had some magical help in learning the language. Then Perse switched back to English. "The next song is loosely translated as 'Dancing with a Stranger,' which is what I want you to do. Please, don't leave the dance floor, but switch partners with the couple closest to you! Don't introduce yourself until after the dance."

Hermione and Charlie had been dancing at the edge of the field, so it was easy for them to determine the closest couple. It was a pair of guests from the Earth Realm. Hermione was fairly certain that it was Nicolai's Russian uncle whom Jasmine had mentioned earlier, and the girl was probably his daughter. They were both clad in local clothing, with the father wearing an outfit very similar to Ironheart's, and the daughter wearing a simple, formfitting green dress with flaring butterfly sleeves that was favoured by the Light Elf maidens she had seen. A thin golden belt that almost looked like a chain divided her upper body from her lower body and made the dress even more aesthetically pleasing.

"Well, it looks like we'll have to switch," Hermione said to Charlie, before stepping over to the father, whose hair and beard reminded her of Hagrid's a bit, though not nearly as long and wild. The hair was sleek and shiny, which meant that he washed and brushed the beard frequently. He bowed and extended his left hand, and Hermione took it with her right, though she didn't move into position yet. Instead she glanced back at Charlie, whose eyes looked like they were about to pop out of their sockets. The blonde daughter was nearly as tall as Mary—who at was very tall for a woman at six-foot-one—though she was much more slender. The slits that came up to mid-thigh on either side of her dress showed her to be very long-legged, and Hermione estimated her age at between seventeen and eighteen.

A furiously blushing Charlie finally remembered to bow and extend his hand, and the young woman took it while letting out a nervous giggle. Her own cheeks had a pink tinge on them.

Hermione turned back to the father as she heard the band tuning up to play the next song, and she lay her left hand on the father's shoulder. A second later, the music started and once again it was a tune which one could waltz to. Hermione fell into the rhythm after an initial misstep, and by the man's counting under his breath and the occasional downward glances, she could tell that he didn't dance very often. He wasn't so bad as to leave her fearing for her toes, so she opted to take some pressure off him and help him loosen up.

"Don't worry about your feet, sir. You're doing all right."

"Thank you," the man replied in a pleasant bass voice.

"I know we can't introduce ourselves until after the dance, but nothing stops me from asking your daughter's name. She _is_ your daughter, isn't she? It's a bit hard to tell with your beard," she added jokingly.

The man laughed. "_Da_, she is my daughter and her name is Maria."

Hermione couldn't have wiped the enormous grin off her face to save her life, and her facial muscles were aching by the time the song ended. She extended her hand. "Now I can introduce myself. Hermione Weasley, formerly Granger."

He shook it. "I am Evgeny Sharapov. I haff heard a lot about you, and your husband. And of course, Harry Potter. They are not here?"

Hermione shook her head. "Something came up back at home …but it seems to have been resolved already," she added, because she saw Harry emerging through the crowd. She thought he should have taken the time to change, since the strange outfit he was wearing was hardly fit for a royal ball. In fact, she had no idea where he had got it.

"May I have the next dance?"

"Maybe you ought to dance with Ginny first, and Harry, meet Evgeny Sharapov." Hermione gestured to her former dance partner.

"Nicolai's uncle?"

"_Da_."

"Thoughtful of him to invite you. I'd like to stay and continue this conversation, but I have to make some excuses for Hermione's husband not having returned," Harry said, smirking.

"He is a fool to leave his lovely wife alone," Sharapov said.

"It really isn't his fault," Harry replied. "Anyway, it was a pleasure meeting you."

Sharapov nodded and bowed slightly, before retreating back into the crowd.

"So where is Ron?" Hermione asked, feeling more and more peeved that Harry had made it back but Ron hadn't. "And where did you get this outfit?"

"I have no idea where Ron is," Harry said, as he led Hermione off the dance floor. "I don't know where Harry is either, but I thought I'd choose his form to contact you after I felt him leave the Mirror Realm. As for this outfit, it was modelled after the one Gudrun made me, three years ago. So, how have things been, little sister?"

Hermione's heart stopped beating. "Good Lord, Max?" she hissed.

The Harry look-alike turned to face her, and the emerald-green eyes briefly transformed to dark-brown, before going back to emerald-green. "The one and only. Don't worry, I'm not here as a herald of doom this time. I already took care of the would-be doom bringers. They're cooling off now … except for the Pinaka lizard-men," Max added laconically. "After _they_ die, there's a weird chemical reaction in their bodies that actually heats them up. Their corpses are probably bloating with heat already."

"You've been fighting? You've _killed_ people? What happened?" Hermione fired a question after question, hoping to find out what was going on.

"Get Nicolai and my grandfather to meet me up on Imperial Tower's observation deck, and I'll tell you all about it."

* * *

x

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Disclaimer: **Yep, the whole part about the trolls and the pink and orange kerchiefs was adapted from Babylon 5.

**StarWest45**: Did you know that Claudia Christian _really _broke her legwhen she fell in that episode? I guess that's why the agonised scream was so convincing.

**Gogirl**: No, actually the part about the stolen boxers was inspired by a shampoo commercial that is being aired on T.V. around here. As for Sissi and Danny's situation, well, you'll see … Thirdly, I said that all hell would break loose _after _Chapter 21. So that's Chapter 22 and the ones following it.

**Viva**: I know. As time passes I realise that juggling this many characters really clogs up the story. Had I been working with fewer characters, this fic would already have been finished. Instead I find myself looking for loose ends that need tying up. And yes, Robert's just as strong as pre-Phoenix Wolfe.

**lluvatar**: Ever the faithful reviewer. Do you use that one-worder with every story you read?

**roastpuff**: Glad you enjoyed that.

**Jake**: :-)

**hootild**: I'm glad that you think I'm developing the children right. Next time though, I'll be less ambitious with the sheer number of characters. As I said earlier, juggling so many characters is becoming a pain.

**Foxfur**: Yeah, Franklin. Good old Richard Biggs, may he rest in peace. Good call on Gudrun's dress. It _is_ Princess Leia's ceremonial costume from A New Hope, and yes, Leia's was white. I liked that costume—Carrie Fisher looked so regal in it. Of course, I like the slave girl costume of Return of the Jedi even better, but I'm a straight guy so it figures. ;-)

**RinnaMarie**: I haven't written anything down yet, but it's a fantasy setting similar to 'Neverwhere' by Neil Gaiman. The protagonist would be a person who fell 'through the cracks of society' and landed in a magical world where almost anything is possible. At first I felt bad for touching so closely to someone else's idea, but that feeling went away when I read The Sword of Shannara and saw what Terry Brooks got away with. It was almost like reading the Lord of the Rings. Of course, Brooks admitted in the Foreword that LoTR was a major inspiration, so no one can accuse him of claiming that it was his own idea. Still, George Lucas tried to sue people over less similarity, so I was sort of surprised by how much leeway a writer can have.

**Elric Magus**: In retrospect I should have left the song references out, but I guess they were pretty funny.

**Lipton**: Thanks, I think.

**Athena McGonagall**: Barry Manilow's _Copacabana_. "Who needs a heart when a heart can be broken" is also a line from _What's__ Love Got To Do With It_. Maybe _Have you no heart _is a song too, but I don't know it, so that wasn't really a song reference. :-) Like Freud said, sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.

**Alchemilla**: Foetal is archaic, but not incorrect. If I wrote feotal it was a typo.

**justn**: Good question, and I was about to smugly quote to you the passage in Chapter 18 that was supposed to have the answer, when I found that it wasn't there. eep I'm pretty sure I wrote it, but I re-wrote Chapter 18 so many times that I must have erased it and forgotten to put it back. I'll remember to slip the answer into a future chapter. If only J.K. Rowling's editor had your eagle eyes. If would have prevented a lot of canon inconsistencies. Thanks! :-)

**Fragarach**: Sorry this update was a bit later than usual.

**Saint Mike**: Someone actually learnt something from my fic. I'm flattered.


	21. Luxury of Time

Chapter 21

**Luxury of Time**

She was one of the forty-nine vampires around the world whose existence was allowed, since she had her bloodlust well under control. After the rigorous exterminations the Order of Illumination had conducted over the past few years, she had also moved up in the age ranking to settle among the eldest vampires in existence. Before her transformation, two hundred and forty-one years ago, she had been a twenty-five year-old half-blood witch, and the mother of two.

Her husband had been from a pure-blood family of vampire hunters, which had something to do with her transformation. In retaliation for the destruction of many of his spawn, a vampire had attacked her and drained her within in mere inches of her life, intending to turn her. He was foiled by another vampire calling himself The Confessor, known to be a champion of good. He slew her attacker, and reluctantly, upon the insistence of her husband's family, granted her a vampire's eternity with his own blood. It was an odd request at first glance, but Ron knew what they must have been thinking. Many vampires had trouble killing up to a year into their unlife, but almost all of their minds were eventually perverted by the bloodlust, turning them into sociopaths. However, all of The Confessor's offspring sired previously had successfully resisted the call of evil and controlled their bloodlust—hence the vampire hunter family's request. Thus this lady vampire had remained a part of her living family ever since, her feeding needs being taken care of by a large pool of volunteers consisting of her many living descendants.

Though all Rangers had heard the story of Madame Isabelle d'Orléans, few had ever actually had the pleasure of meeting her in person—and a pleasure it was. Her dress strongly reminded Ron of the ones he'd seen in a Muggle movie Hermione had made him watch once, about two French nobles seducing people and wrecking their lives for their personal entertainment. The gown was made of teal green silk with decorations in pink silk and embellished with hundreds of little silk roses. The gown's extremely low cut coupled with a corset pushing up her breasts made her a very enticing sight. Resisting forms of entrancement had never been his strong suit, and Ron thanked his lucky stars that she wasn't evil, for he instinctively knew that he would have walked into her embrace without too much resistance if she had asked for a nibble on his neck.

Ron felt someone nudge him in the side, and he snapped out of her reverie, meeting Harry's exasperated green gaze.

"Let's not act in a way that would have made the wives jealous had they been here, shall we?"

Ron felt his face warm up. He nodded mutely.

"That goes for you too, Ranger Larsson," Harry snapped at Rolf, who was still openly ogling Madame Isabelle.

"Why? I'm not married," Rolf muttered in reply, not even looking away from Isabelle.

"Is your name Larsson?" Isabelle's misty-grey eyes lit up and her full red lips quirked upwards in a smile. "I knew a Ranger named Martin Larsson. Family of yours?"

Rolf nodded. "My uncle."

"Hmmm, I can see the resemblance. How is he?"

"He was killed in action years ago."

"Oh, I am sorry."

"It's been a few decades, so my family's already come to terms with his death. But thanks anyway."

"Why are you Rangers 'ere?" the young witch who had reluctantly let them into the mansion and led them to the library, interrupted. "Madame Isabelle 'as done nussing wrong!"

"Don't worry. We don't mean her any harm." Harry turned to Isabelle. "I'm Harry Potter. Rolf has already introduced himself in his own uniquely rude way, and the gentleman with the red hair is Ronald Weasley."

"Charmed," Ron said in a squeaky voice.

She nodded graciously. "It is an honour to meet you at last, Mr Potter and Mr Weasley. And you too, Mr Larsson. Welcome to Calais. To what do I owe this visit? It has to do something with the vampires in England, _c'est pas vrai_?" she asked, speaking much better English than her descendant had.

Though wizards didn't know as much about vampires as they would like, all experts agreed on certain assumptions based on observations made in the past. The elder and more powerful the sire, the more quickly the spawn gained power as well. The Confessor must already have been old when he had sired Madame Isabelle, for she had begun to manifest certain powers normally acquired after at least a hundred years mere decades into her unlife. No one knew exactly how old The Confessor was now, but even in the earliest records about him dated six hundred years ago, there had been accounts of feats that Anastasiou hadn't been capable of at the peak of his power. Isabelle's renowned ability to sense other vampires hundreds of miles away was quite remarkable for a vampire as 'young' as she was. Sires could sense their spawn, and vice versa, but only vampires roughly three times as old as Madame Isabelle was now had been known to be able to sense 'unrelated' vampires. And since she lived on the outskirts of Calais, the town Crawley in the southeast of England was well within her sensing range.

Ron nodded. "That's right. We were hoping that you could tell us more about them. Like how many there were, for example."

Madame Isabelle's thin eyebrows drew together and she pursed her lips as she contemplated the question that had been posed to her. She brought her small hand up to her face and idly began to twirl the lock that fell free from her French twist on the left side of her face. Ron forced himself to look away, afraid that he would be far too captivated by her to hear a word she was saying when she answered his question. He looked around the library instead, letting his gaze drift across the rows of books.

"I cannot tell you exactly how many," she finally said. "There were between twenty five and thirty. Three of them I sensed twenty years ago, and they were a little older than the others, but still young. I know they used a … what do you English call it … a Portkey. One moment they were on this side of the channel, and the next moment they were in England."

"Are vampires that young capable of putting someone under their thrall?" Ron asked.

"_Non_. Not even if they had a very old sire. They were too young."

Ron knew that meant that they had to have either a wizard ally or knew a wizard unscrupulous enough to deal with unregistered vampires.

"Can you still sense them?" Harry asked.

"They are beyond the reach of my senses now, but they travelled the normal way before they went too far. They went north. That is all I can tell you."

"You've been a great help nonetheless," Ron said. Now he knew that the vampires could travel by Portkey, and that they had the services of a wizard or witch skilled enough to create stealthy Portkeys. There were very few wizards in the world who knew how to do that, and even fewer crooked ones, since most of the legitimate ones were his colleagues in the Order of Illumination's Artificer Division. If he could find out who had helped the vampires, the witch or wizard in question might identify some of them, giving Ron even more to work with.

"Would you like a cup of tea before you go?" Madame Isabelle offered. She gestured to the fidgety young witch sneaking surreptitious glances at Rolf, who in turn was sneaking glances at Madam Isabelle's cleavage. "My niece makes wonderful tea."

Rolf shook his head sadly. "Sorry, but we can't breast—err—rest before we complete this mission."

"There's reason to believe that those vampires might have abducted an Auror. We don't have the luxury of time," Harry explained.

Madame Isabelle nodded in understanding. "I wish you luck. I hope you find the Auror alive."

**XXX**

"Honestly, Rolf, didn't your mother teach you any manners? You stared at her cleavage the entire time."

Without waiting for a reply, Ron activated the special Portkey that all Rangers carried. It was keyed to whatever Cruiser was their mobile base, and took them straight to it. Harry activated his Portkey own Portkey and saw Rolf do the same, and they simultaneously arrived in the _Draco_'s designated arrival square. It could accommodate up to four people simultaneously teleporting in, but with Ron still in the square it was a bit crowded.

"Couldn't help myself, Ron. I'm a breast-man—although I have to admit that Wendy's breasts were a bit too much even for me," Rolf continued the conversation. "But if a woman flaunts 'em like that, I can't help looking."

"That's because you're a pig!" Maaike's voice rang good-naturedly, followed by snickers from Rashid Farouk and Tariq ben-Hamoud. The remaining two Combat Ranger members of Harry's team, Nestor Gaitan and Benjamin Paradou, wisely held their tongues and pretended to inspect some of the floor panels.

Rolf scowled at Tariq and Rashid. "What are _you two_ laughing at? I seem to recall both of you expressing your frustration about your local Muggles' insistence on covering up their women. You like skin even more than I do."

Harry smiled. While Rolf was right, Tariq and Rashid would never be caught saying that with a woman present.

Rolf turned to Maaike. "And _you_ are just bitter because you'd never have a chance with me!"

"As if! _I'm_ not the one who has to resort to a partner old enough to be my parent," Maaike retorted shrilly, though her statement was immediately followed by a flash of regret. Harry knew she hadn't meant to bring it up, but Rolf's taunt had bruised her ego. However, she shunted her regret aside to continue her verbal assault.

While he was being immersed in the foreign thoughts and emotions broadcast by the rising tensions, Harry's still managed to feel his own surprise. He thought he had been the only one to know about Rolf's affair with Commander Kovalenko. He had been a bit shocked when he unexpectedly picked up a broadcast from Commander Kovalenko's mind a few months ago, due to her initial guilt over sleeping with Rolf. However, to his knowledge, Rolf hadn't been with Commander Kovalenko for quite a while.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Rolf said quickly, though the way he had just blanched told the onlookers a different story.

"I always knew you were a sleaze-bag, but I never expected you to try and sleep your way to the top!"

"Bloody hell, Rolf. Found yourself a sugar-mama, eh? Who've you been shagging, and can you put in a good word for me the next time you meet her?" Ron laughed, blissfully unaware of why Maaike's revelation was so serious. But how could he have known? Unlike the business with Wendy and Padma, this secret had been kept quiet very successfully, though Harry had a hunch that it was mostly due to Commander Kovalenko's Intelligence Division experience. Ron didn't realise that Maaike meant Rolf sleeping his way to the top in the _Order of Illumination_.

Rolf hadn't heard Ron, though, because he was so outraged by what Maaike had implied. Before Harry could silence him, he defended Commander Kovalenko. "Irina would never show favouritism because of our relationship."

"Bloody hell, Irina as in Commander Kovalenko?" Ron cried out after adding up the fresh information

Harry winced. The cat was out of the bag. It was time to do something he had never done before, namely, pull rank and give orders. "This information doesn't leave this Cruiser. That's an order!"

Suddenly feeling suspicious, he used his special vision to peer into the upper deck, which confirmed his suspicion. The pair of artificers and the healer, Rachel Esklove, Cirilo Roverano, and Vania Goumas respectively, were all huddled around the speaker at Rachel's pilot console.

"That goes for three of you upstairs too. I know you're listening in, and I'm deadly serious about keeping this between us." Glancing back at the Rangers surrounding him, he continued. "I want everyone but Maaike and Rolf upstairs … _now_!"

Rashid, Tariq, Nestor and Benjamin vanished to the upper deck faster than one could say Quidditch.

Ron lingered for a moment. "I'll call Citadel C&C and request that they devote three Orbital Eyes to scanning the south-east of England of for residual imprints of stealthy Portkeys," he offered. "I'll also ask Rachel if she still knows how to make an extract of residual energies. If she's rusty she'd better brush up, because once we get the Portkey's signature, we can run it against possible wand signatures in our archives. I don't think it'll lead anywhere, because I have a feeling that the Portkey's maker was clever enough to use a stolen wand to pull it off."

"Do you think it's someone we know, then?"

"I'm hoping that it is," Ron said seriously. "Better _that_ than someone crafty enough to have learnt creating stealthy Portkeys under our noses."

"Good point," Harry conceded. "Go do your thing."

After the levitation circle had taken Ron to the upper deck, Harry rounded on Rolf and Maaike. "Now I want you two to talk about this, find the root of the problem and pull it out. The two of you used to be thick as thieves," he added, citing the main reason why he had asked for Rolf's transfer into his unit.

When Riyadi decided that the drawbacks of keeping the disruptive pair of Ramos and Larsson despite their frequent juvenile antics began to outweigh their teamwork benefits, he split them up. George had been sent to Khan's team, where he had immediately settled in. Rolf, however, had found it difficult to find to find his niche in his new team, and when it became evident that things weren't working out, Harry had volunteered to accept him into his team in anticipation of Maaike's return from her project in England. She and Rolf had always been competitive, and the fact that he had felt Maaike's hot breath in the back of his neck in the Martial Division's unofficial ranking had kept Rolf working hard, lest he be beaten by a girl. Aside from that, her humour and fanatic love of Quidditch that rivalled Rolf's own love for the game gave them a lot of common interests, leading to a friendship second only to Rolf's friendship with Geo.

It was painfully obvious, however, that that were some underlying issues disrupting their communication. "Well?"

Rolf and Maaike both looked at him uncomfortably, and Maaike spoke up first. "Can't we talk about this privately?"

"I'm afraid not," Harry said sternly. "If it affects the functioning of my team, it's my business too. If you hadn't behaved like children, you wouldn't _be_ in this mess."

Rolf looked at Maaike. "Would you like me to go first?"

Maaike shrugged. "Be my guest."

"Okay. First of all, Ir—Commander Kovalenko and I aren't seeing each other anymore. Part of the reason she was attracted to me was because I look like my uncle, and I guess I dug her because of an Oedipus-thing."

"She not your mother," Maaike remarked.

"No, but it's the same Quidditch pitch. It's a lot like giving a foot-massage to—"

"If you use that foot-massage anecdote again, I'll hex you into oblivion," Maaike warned.

"You mean you'd _try_!" Rolf shot back.

"You think I can't take you?" Maaike challenged, and Harry strategically cleared his throat to cut short an escalation.

"Rolf, you were saying that you and Commander Kovalenko weren't involved anymore. Please continue."

"All right. Err, well, after we got the tension out of our systems, we went back to a normal professional relationship." Rolf looked at Maaike. "But how did _you_ find out, anyway?"

"When I came back for an evaluation in March, I wanted to visit you so we could catch up. When I couldn't find you, I used a Sentinel Globe to look for you," she quickly added. "But I was wearing goggles, so I'm the only one who saw the data-feed of the Ruby Dragon."

Rolf, who had tensed up after Maaike uttered the words _Sentinel Globe_, relaxed again. Harry knew why, since Hermione had once told him that a handful his fellow Rangers had inadvertently watched part of his first night with Ginny through the Sentinel Globe..

Maaike continued. "Seeing you and Commander Kovalenko made me upset because … well … you've never had a relationship with a female Ranger before that."

Rolf grinned. "Not for lack of trying, though."

Owing to his gift, Harry knew that was a little white lie, for Rolf _had_ in fact bedded another female Ranger shortly after he had been recruited into the Order. Hopefully no one would ever find out about that. Not a day went by that he didn't somewhat regret being a Mind Reader. The advantages hardly outweighed the drawbacks.

"It also bothered me that you never tried anything with _me_." Maaike laughed nervously in a vain attempt to bleed off some tension. "It didn't bother me before, but actually seeing you with another woman who is a Ranger—I remembered that you wouldn't touch me even when I threw myself at you after the New Year's party, five years ago. Adding to this that Rick has just more or less told me that he wanted to move on—well, I suggested the break-up, but I suppose it still stung that he agreed so readily." She paused to arrest her rambling and collect her thoughts before continuing. "I guess it has all festered inside me these last few months, and when you said I'd never have a chance with you, it kind of struck a nerve."

"You shouldn't take what happened, or rather, what didn't happen after the New Year's party personally. I told you afterwards that I don't take advantage of drunk women, didn't I?"

"Yeah, and that was a lie," Maaike retorted sourly. "You took advantage of an old school-friend easily enough three years ago. You even bragged about it to Geo."

"She was hardly a _friend_. It was revenge for all the grief she's given me about my acne in our school years," Rolf said defensively. "If it makes you feel any better, I've had some sleepless nights thinking about getting together with you, but I didn't want to risk wrecking a great friendship," he added earnestly.

"Really?"

"Maaike, I may mostly hit on our pretty colleagues, but the truth is that looks don't matter to me that much. For the better part of my teens my face looked like the Himalayas, and I thought I'd _never_ get a girlfriend. So it wasn't your looks that made me steer clear of you. I also knew you had a boyfriend, and I didn't want to wreck your relationship with _him_."

"I'm glad we cleared that up." Maaike gave Rolf as much of a smile as she could manage in her embarrassment, and stuck out her hand. "Looks like silence isn't always golden after all, eh? Friends?"

Rolf looked at Maaike hopefully as he engulfed her hand in both of his. "Since everything is out in the open, I thought we might try going beyond that. What do you say? Feel like taking some risks? Neither of us is getting any younger, and we're at a nice age to settle down a bit."

Maaike's eyes widened. "You're serious, aren't you?"

Rolf blushed. "I wouldn't say all this myself in front of a witness if I weren't."

Harry could no longer restrain a chuckle. "You know, Hermione told me that Geo and Lilia got formally together after a row very much like the one you two just had."

Maaike turned to Harry. "I didn't say I'd go along with it."

"You won't?" Rolf asked, looking crestfallen.

Maaike rolled her eyes. "I didn't say that either. I wouldn't mind giving it a try, but you need to work on your sensitivity. Let's take it one step at a time."

"One step at a time's good," Rolf agreed.

Maaike turned to Harry. "Now that you've solved our issues, would you mind giving us some time alone?"

Harry stepped onto the levitation circle and shot the potential new couple a mischievous grin. "We'll be in England soon, so please don't take a leaf out of the Kellys' book right now. Keep it decent."

Maaike's outraged reply was cut off as the levitation circle quickly carried Harry to the next deck, where he saw everyone except Ron cloistered around Rachel's pilot console. Ron sat next to the main communications console, wearing a headset and talking to whoever was on duty in Command and Control.

"Gee, Harry. Who would've thought that you're such a good matchmaker? By the way, thanks for making me sixty Galleons richer." Rachel Esklove gave the other Rangers a superior smirk. "I _told_ you guys it was sexual tension. Cash will be fine, but gift certificates from Concordia's finest jewellers are also welcome."

"Oh, they're going to kiss!" Vania Goumas said with a look of utter disgust on her face.

Harry followed her gaze and noticed that the others were watching images from the lower deck. "So much for taking things slowly."

"She said one step at a time, but not how quickly those steps would be taken," Nestor Gaitan pointed out.

Harry reached over and flicked the console mirror's switch, causing the mirror to go to its normal reflective self. "Give them a bit of privacy, Rachel. The other Rangers don't spy on you and He Who Must Not Be Named."

Rachel scowled. "Not funny."

"Then you see my point. Now take us to Crawley."

"Not London?"

Harry shook his head. "The bureaucrats can wait, but magical trails grow cold quickly."

**XXX**

Ginny had just been sliding Ironheart's hand off her bum and up to her waist when Hermione interrupted their dance with the shocking news of Wolfe's return. Now they sprinted up the final flight of stairs that led up to the Imperial Tower's observation deck, and Ginny was a bit surprised to be having trouble keeping up with a wizard in his eighties. Still, they reached the landing together, and both briefly froze in their tracks as they saw Wolfe. He was facing away from them, but it was undoubtedly him. His hair was longer than Ginny had ever seen him wear it, gathered in a braid that ended up roughly between his shoulder blades. Two forelocks were braided as well, dangling next to his face and giving him a bit of a wild look.

"Max, it's so good to see you, my boy!" Ironheart burst out and swept forward towards his grandson.

Wolfe met him halfway and engulfed his grandfather in a hug. "I wish it were under better circumstances. I just dispatched several mercenary assassins hired by Yamato and the Duchess of Astirian to kill Nicolai and Mary … and they had a contact within the city. One of the local patricians—I don't know who, yet— decided to help the duchess in exchange for future favours. Long story, but let me say hello to Ginny first."

"I was beginning to think I was invisible," Ginny said, pretending to be offended as she walked over to Wolfe.

Wolfe gave her a weary grin. "I didn't mean to be rude, but you know me. I have a compulsion to get to the point quickly."

"You're forgiven. So, how have you been? Aside from the fight just now."

"Very busy. Yamato entered the employ of Duchess of Astirian about ten months ago. It quickly translated into some nasty weapons for the ducal forces' forward scouts. So far my powers have prevented the resistance from taking more casualties because of it, but it's only a matter of time before Yamato's workshops start churning out more and heavier war machines. I wanted to take things easy, but I've heard some very plausible rumours about dreadful war machines being built, and now I don't have the luxury of time anymore. That's why I'm planning to raid his workshops very soon. I need to slow down his weapons production long enough for the rural towns to throw off the last remnants of mutual mistrust and rally together under the banner of freedom."

"I take it your campaign has been going well, then?" Ironheart asked.

Wolfe nodded. "The resistance really got a boost when I pushed my powers and mastered the phoenix Animagus form. A few weeks after I pulled it off I could be everywhere at once, and the best part is that, as a phoenix, I can teleport everywhere my duplicates have been. That's how I came to Shamballah. I sent ahead a duplicate, and teleported when he got here—but I'm straying. Basically I keep several of my duplicates as liaisons in several towns and all the resistance encampments. It made it much easier to get everyone organised, not to mention neutralise the ducal spies within the resistance's ranks. And if a town came under assault, I could teleport there and summon few dozen duplicates to assist in the defence."

"Don't you find the sheer numbers of opponents daunting?"

Wolfe smiled grimly. "A direct battle at this point would be catastrophic for the resistance, but that's changing quickly. The resistance used to meet most ducal troops head on or with some very unsubtle ambushes, but I've taught them proper asymmetric warfare and hit and fade tactics. We've nibbled away roughly twenty percent of the ducal forces with minimal losses, and the duchess is having trouble keeping the garrisons in the outlier regions large enough to be intimidating.

"I also taught the resistance fighters that wars aren't always fought on the battlefield. Aside from waylaying most of the treasure convoys, we've raided precious metal and precious stone mines. We freed all the slaves and hauled away whatever a flock of duplicates in dragon-form could carry, before collapsing the entrances to the mines and making it very difficult for the duchess to gain access to them again. My sources tell me that she's finding it increasingly more difficult to motivate the mercenary experts who've achieved the greatest successes for her against the resistance. It was bad enough when they raised their tariffs after hearing what I was capable of, and now the duchess' resources are drying up. The people she sent after Nicolai were very skilled, and I bet she must have depleted her stockpile of wealth quite a bit to get them to come here."

"Will you change to conventional war when the ducal forces are weak enough?"

"I won't mobilise any kind of army before we're ready for a final assault on Astirian City itself. In fact, I want to draft as little people as possible. I'll keep up the guerrilla attacks and drive them deeper into their own territory until less than ten percent of the ducal troops are left. The main reason I've worked on strengthening ties between the different towns is not because I want to forge an army out of them, but because I don't want them at each other's throats after victory and the regime change. That's always been more of a worry to me that defeating the duchess."

Ironheart nodded. "Before you crack the coconut you have to make sure that the meat and milk don't spoil."

"I see Master Lei taught you about toppling governments too, Grandpa," Wolfe said dryly. "At the time I didn't think I'd ever find myself in a situation where I'd have to use this knowledge, but now I'm glad the old man taught me these things. I don't think I could have led the resistance nearly as well without his teachings."

"Max!" Hermione had emerged form the stairway and was striding towards them. "When I told Nicolai about the trouble he said that abandoning the festivities would tip off the troublemakers' contacts. He'll come and see you in an hour or so, when he and Mary are scheduled to leave the festivities. He also asked for you to cover the all the corridors connected to the ballroom's main exit, since the enemy would know that he and Mary are likely to use them, and the predictability of his departure time makes excellent ambush information. He says a second wave isn't inconceivable."

"I forgot how smart the kid is. He immediately deduced that the mercenaries had inside help, and he correctly pinpointed the best ambush time." Wolfe smiled and shook his head. "I already killed the assassins, but I'll keep an eye out in case there's a back-up wave. Thanks for message, little sister."

"I also thought I'd alert _someone else_ to your arrival," Hermione said with a smirk, and moments after the words left her lips, Heidi emerged from the staircase, carrying her daughter in her arms. Then the three boys appeared as well, the two younger ones flushed with exertion but Robert looking like he had just finished a leisurely stroll.

Heidi thrust her daughter into Hermione's arms before lifting her skirt a bit so as not to trip when running towards Wolfe at full speed. She seemed blinded by joy, and Ginny had to get out of the way to prevent herself from being bowled over. Then Heidi was upon Wolfe, who caught her and twirled her around to bleed off her momentum before their mouths mashed against each other in a feverish kiss only long lost Soul Mates could manage.

After they came up for air, Heidi heaved a contented sight. "Mein Gott, I've missed you!"

"Not as much as I missed you," Wolfe replied huskily. Then he nodded towards Hermione. "I take it that the little version of yourself you dumped in Hermione's arms is our little girl?"

Heidi blushed and broke out of Wolfe's embrace to collect her daughter from Hermione. Wolfe chose the moment to go down on one knee and gesture the boys forward. "Come on, guys. I'd almost think you're not happy to see me!"

Robert and Henry cheered and ran into their father's embrace, but Westley sought shelter behind Hermione's skirt, and the disappointed look on Wolfe's face caused pangs of sympathy to flash through Ginny's heart. Even though he'd been showered by love and affection in Heidi's care and had made tremendous progress with social behaviour, the boy wouldn't be comfortable with his father until he was old enough to intellectually understand why Yamato had deceived him.

From the corner of her eye, Ginny saw that Heidi was about to call Westley over, but Wolfe interceded before she could do so. "It's okay. The fear is too deeply ingrained. We can't really expect him to overcome it until he's older. Don't be disappointed with him. How has he settled in at home?"

"Very well," Heidi replied proudly. "He's picking up English as quickly as only children can, and he even knows some German from when he hears me talk to Sissi."

"As in Elisabeth of Bavaria? Sissi of Austria?" Wolfe asked, a smirk of amusement appearing on his face.

"Yes, but I also had _our mothers_ in mind when I named her Elisabeth," Heidi pointed out, as she brought their daughter over and gently passed her to Wolfe. "_Kuck Sissi, dies ist dein pappie_. _Hallo Pappa_. _Möchtes du deinen pappie keinen kuss geben?_"

Instead greeting her father with words, Sissi stretched up in her father's arms and kissed him on the cheek. Then she squealed out his name. "Max!"

Wolfe chuckled. "Great, she's one of those girls who won't call their father daddy. I thought that phase wasn't due until her teens."

"It's my fault. I've shown her pictures of you, but I mostly called you Max when showing her those pictures."

"Max, your hair wasn't braided when you were in Harry's form," Hermione began. "I didn't know Metamorph-magic could influence styling as well."

Wolfe's eyes hardened. "Hold that thought."

"What's wrong?" Hermione, Heidi, and Ginny asked in unison.

"Nicolai was right," Wolfe muttered as he quickly passed his daughter back to Heidi. "There _is_ a second wave of assassins. I'm going to make them scream for interrupting my time with my kids," he added with a growl. Then he transformed into a phoenix and disappeared in a flash of flames.

**XXX**

**Gogirl**: He stopped the _first wave_ of that attempt, yes. And Christine _did_ help me with most of the dresses.

**StarWest45**: LOL, Asturia is from Escaflowne.

**hootild**: No, I don't make up the costumes myself. And the fighting will start in the next chapter.

**lluvatar**: Hey, something other than a one-worder.

**justn**: Well, I already knew the answer. I just forgot to put it in the chapter, which is why you were confused.

**Foxfur**: You're good! Yes, Mary's gown _was_ an adapted version of the one Amidala wore at the peace ceremony in The Phantom Menace. And in case you were wondering, Commander Ironheart's was taken from Théoden in The Two Towers, Nicolai's from Faramir at the coronation ceremony in Return of the King, and Matt's from Celeborn in The Fellowship of the Ring.

**Lipton**: Yep, Gudrun's dad is gay. Do you think a straight guy could leave a hot number like Gudrun's mum (in her younger years before her illness) behind? ;-)

**soulfire**: If I don't update anymore you can assume that I got hit by a truck, or something. knock on wood

**Saint Mike**: Ah, so you're familiar with the Slavic naming conventions. Yep, Maria's father's surname is Sharapov, so her surname is Sharapova. LOLOLOL. And before you ask; No, I'm not one of those dudes obsessed with Maria Sharapova. :-) Oh, she's pretty enough, but I don't like my women quite _that _thin.

**Harrypotterfan777777**: It's not that I don't like sunshine reviews, but I like reviews containing some criticism better. As for losing focus to what the characters are doing, I am aware of that flaw in my writing, but thanks for pointing it out again. I write like I talk. I can skip from one topic to another seemingly unrelated topic rather easily. My plotting should indeed become a bit more linear.

But, err, what do you mean about Ginny being an Animagus? She's not an Animagus. Yeah ,she can sprout angelic wings, but I _did _explain how that came to pass.

**Lupin123**: I'll try to update as quickly as possible.

**Elric Magus**: Yes, she did.

**Fragarach**: Perhaps.

**Sandya**: I prefer to update a bit more slowly and retain quality rather than to update quickly and post a crappy chapter.


	22. The Stand

Chapter 22

**The Stand**

Woroghs! His duplicates had spotted Woroghs, and not just any Woroghs!

These creatures—best described as human-sized goblins—came from a region bordering Shamballah and its fiefs. Their society was divided into many tribes and clans with the strong individuals ruling the weak—or rather, the less strong—and the powerful tribes bullying the less powerful ones. The downright weak didn't live very long in Worogh territory, even if they were Woroghs themselves. They had slaves working their crop-fields, tending their cattle, and working necessary crafts they regarded as being beneath them. The only honourable craft in the eyes of the Woroghs was that of a weaponsmith, and Wolfe had seen some quality weapons in his skirmishes with the Woroghs during his brief travel through part of their territory while hunting Yamato, who must have noticed the same thing, since his trail had soon taken Wolfe out of their territory.

The Woroghs lived for war and raiding, often raiding settlements outside their territory but fairly frequently attacking other Worogh tribes as well, if those tribes appeared to be weak. That infighting kept their population in check and spared the surrounding regions from even more Worogh-induced grief. However, there was _one_ tribe of Woroghs so powerful that the other tribes dared not attack it. They were the Yoogs, and they occasionally adopted promising warriors from other tribes. The people Wolfe had talked to about the Woroghs had no idea how long that had been going on, but his encounter with an advanced scouting party of these Yoogs had revealed that their selective breeding had gone on long enough for them to grow bigger, meaner, and smarter than their mundane cousins. And he had also learned that when the Yoog warriors decided to leave their fortified settlement, _all of them did_, though not necessarily marching together to whatever unfortunate victims they had selected, but all arriving at the same destination. That meant that five hundred or so elite Woroghs had dribbled into Shamballah somehow.

Wolfe had known that they had left their native territory and headed towards Astirian a few weeks ago, but the absence of spies within the Woroghs' ranks made tracking their movement more difficult. Now five hundred lethal warriors were roaming about in the tower's lower levels. They weren't dangerous to _him_, but he didn't know whether he'd be able to find all of them all before someone got hurt. Looking around, he saw that there were a lot of people to evacuate.

Unceremoniously shoving aside some Shamballah socialites who had given his garb a disdainful once over, he made his way to Nicolai and Mary.

"Mr Wolfe?" Mary exclaimed in surprise.

Wolfe acknowledge her with a nod before turning to Nicolai. "Sorry to be the bearer of bad news. Do you know the elite Woroghs calling themselves Yooghs?"

"They're in the tower?" Nicolai's question almost sounded as a statement.

"Yes."

"Where?"

"My duplicates have seen some in the lower levels, where the government and civil service offices are. Some might have slipped by them and may already be higher."

Nicolai nodded, and turned to his stricken-looking wife. "We had better evacuate then. Tell your father to gather our families and head up to our private level, quickly!" Then he closed his eyes and brushed a seal-ring around his left little-finger, concentrating deeply.

Wolfe managed to glimpse Nicolai's rapid thoughts and saw the reason why Nicolai wanted Matt's family and his own to be well on their way up there before he called for a general evacuation. He didn't trust many of the guests—even the local ones—to put the royal family's safety before their own. He also saw the true nature of the seal ring, and knew that Nicolai was calling forth the magical defences he had engineered for the tower. It would certainly buy them some more time, but Wolfe knew that fifty modified black training golems wouldn't stop five hundred highly trained Woroghs.

The group Wolfe had dispatched had been far too easy to track into Shamballah, and he suddenly realised that it was a setup of some sort. The enemy wanted him here, though he couldn't begin to wonder why. Were they planning a massive counterattack on the resistance fighters in Astirian? He took a moment to concentrate and contacted the duplicates he had left behind with the resistance, telling them to be extra watchful and to give the local commanders instructions on what to do. Those commanders weren't quite as experienced as Wolfe would have liked, but he had spread himself very thinly and he knew there was a chance that he wouldn't be able maintain all of the duplicates if he needed to draw on extra power.

Suddenly Wolfe got a vision from one of his duplicates. Small squads of Woroghs flitted into the room through various entrances "A fairly large group of Yoogs have gathered in a hexagonal room with all sorts of statues. Where is this room?"

"Ten floors down. It makes sense for them to gather there, since the secondary stairs and lifts they must have been using all end there. They have to go through that area if they want to keep climbing."

"Is there any way to prevent them from ascending?"

Nicolai shook his head. "Only the uppermost two hundred feet can be sealed off completely. It's the palace proper."

"Then I'd better go head them off."

"I can command fifty golems. Should I send them down to help you?"

"You'd better not. Keep them here in case some Woroghs decide to come in from the top."

"They won't come in that way if stealth is their primary concern. Aerial traffic is forbidden to ascend beyond thirty-three hundred feet, but— "

"If they realise that they've been detected, stealth will no longer be on their list of priorities," Wolfe interrupted.

"I know that, cousin. As I was saying before you interrupted me, you needn't worry about that, because as we speak umbranium hatches are covering any aperture large enough for viable entry by anything larger than fairies. And the holes large enough to allow fairies through are defended by potent magic. The builders of this place were very powerful."

The knowledge that his family was safe allowed Wolfe to relax a little. "All right, but I still want you to keep the golems as a safety net. Have them deal with any Yoogs that manage to slip by me."

"If it would give you peace of mind."

"It would. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to head them off," Wolfe said, and transformed into a phoenix before using the animal's ability for instant translocation that took him straight to the room his duplicated was in. He reappeared under the archway that marked the border between the statue chamber and the chamber beyond, where the stairs and magical lifts were located. He returned to human form and stepped off the slightly raised threshold and into the chamber, before slamming the doors shut with burst of wand-less magic. Since the doors had to be _pulled_ open from his side, he also wandlessly summoned a quartet of heavy statues and barricaded the door with them. Each weighed several tonnes, and since the Woroghs weren't able to use magic like wizards did, they would have to put their collective backs into removing the statues. That made the possibility of any Woroghs slipping by while Wolfe was busy extremely unlikely

He stepped back onto the threshold and began to walk along the threshold's edge with the deliberate and measured steps of a tiger out for a stroll. Relaxed but alert. A predator's gait.

"What are you doing?" one of the Woroghs snarled in Etti.

"I thought it was obvious. I'm standing in your way," Wolfe replied, not breaking stride. Disbelieving snorts from several of the Woroghs compelled him to reveal some additional information. "Allow me to introduce myself. Some of your kind have called me the Butcher of Astirian." He reached the edge of the threshold and doubled back in the same deliberate pace. "A bit of a premature title, if you ask me. It is the victors who write the history scrolls, but the duchess and her minions won't win. When everything is said and done, I'm sure that story will be told from the perspective of the slaves who got away that day."

Their expressions changed from anger to uncertainty, but knowing who their adversary was didn't shake their confidence as much as Wolfe would have liked. "Stand aside! The whole Yoog tribe is here. You cannot hope to stop us!"

Wolfe raised an eyebrow and drew his sword. Its warmth pulsed up through his arm in a reassuring manner as bright flames sprung up around its edges. He knew it wasn't going to be easy. All the Woroghs had magical staff-like weapons that were made of spun umbranium wires and could become flexible like a whip in the blink of an eye. That trait made them hard to deal with, since they could coil around a weapon and yank it out of an opponent's hand. Their tops were broad, flat, oval-shaped, and razor-sharp for slashing and thrusting, and the lower tip narrowed to a spike for easy impalement of someone sneaking up behind its wielder. Wolfe would have liked to practice with one, but the metal filaments that made up the spear's shaft cut anyone who wasn't a Yoog. It was magically attuned to anyone initiated into the tribe, and not even 'lesser' Woroghs could touch it.

He summoned the magic within himself and allowed it to fill every cell in his body. The faces of his adversaries reflected some of the deep orange glow of his roaring aura. Chunks of marble tore free from the floor and levitated upwards under the influence of his power. "This threshold"—he gestured to beneath him with a sweeping arm—"is off limits. Bring on your hundreds, one at a time or all in one rush. I don't care. None shall pass!"

Then, as the front-most Woroghs prepared to charge, Wolfe simultaneously banished ten enormous statues from one side of the chamber to the other, sweeping dozens of Woroghs with them and crushing them against the walls. He then moved the statues in front of the five smaller door-less entrances in pairs, making it difficult but not impossible for someone to squeeze through. He wished he could animate the statues, but that was too complex and energy-consuming without a wand.

He raised his left hand and beckoned the Woroghs up front to come and fight him. There were still a little over a hundred of them in there, and Wolfe steeled himself for a test unlike any he had ever faced.

Three of the largest Woroghs—large even by Yoog standards—came on, stamping and howling with rage. They were so intent on Wolfe that he chose to take advantage of the moment and send a sharp, Quaffle-sized chunk of marble at the head of the middle Worogh. It sped across towards the startled Worogh and struck him in the face, crushing bone and sinking halfway into his face, killing him.

Fortunately this unexpected development distracted his two companions as well, and Wolfe sprinted towards them with magically enhanced speed. The first one tried and failed to parry Wolfe's slash in time, and his headless body remained upright for a few seconds, spurting a few geyser-like jets of blood from a scorched but not quite cauterised wound as the heart pumped a few more times before stopping. The second one tried to mimic Wolfe's decapitation of his fallen comrade. Wolfe blocked his blow enough to deflect its trajectory, not wanting the put the Worogh in a position to command the spear into its slacked, whip-like state and use it to rip the flaming Phoenix Katana from his grasp. He pivoted on his left foot, scything his right leg through the Worogh's legs, dumping the creature hard onto the marble floor. Then he smashed his left fist into his adversary's face with inhuman strength, crushing it like a grape and sending blood spattering and pieces of brain sliding along the marble floor, before leaping up and hustling back to the threshold.

He had barely turned to face the group of Woroghs again as the next trio of Woroghs launched their attack. They had learned from the mistake of their predecessors and were keeping an eye out for flying debris. Wolfe waited for them to get closer before sending chunks of marble at each of them, which they contemptuously batted aside with their staffs. However, half a heart-beat after banishing the rocks towards his foes, Wolfe himself was off the ground in a salto that reverse-twisted directly over their heads, and he slashed his sword at precisely the right time to open the back of two necks and sending more dark blood spurting into the air. Had they not been busy slapping the rocks aside, it would have been easy for them to impale him.

The two victims didn't immediately collapse, and their startled jerks served to aid Wolfe by spraying blood into the face of the unhurt Worogh, upon which finishing him off with a thrust through the heart became easy. The others didn't wait for Wolfe to return to his position on the threshold, though, and the dead Worogh was still on his blade when they charged, so Wolfe spun around and kicked the dead Worogh's body towards the fresh trio. It knocked one of them over, but he was replaced by a new one peeling from the ranks of the waiting. Wolfe danced to the left, putting both warriors diagonally in front of him with the intention of having the left on engage him first. It didn't work. The left Worogh waited for the others to catch up, and soon four Woroghs were drawing closer in a disciplined phalanx. It _did_ put them in an excellent position to be flattened by a tall statue of an emperor of bygone times, which had been Wolfe's backup plan all along. After killing four birds with a single statue, he returned to the threshold with a leap.

With about thirty Woroghs having been crushed with statues in the initial attack and four of them being flattened in the latest manoeuvre, the Woroghs realised that the statues made excellent weapons of opportunity. After a barked order by a higher-ranked Worogh, ten warriors formed a perimeter against Wolfe while the rest began to cluster around the statues that were still standing, obviously intending the bring them down. The narrow threshold could only accommodate as many as five warriors and still leave them enough room to fight, so Wolfe knew that they wouldn't attack him just yet.

He sent a mental query to the Phoenix Katana, asking if its fireballs could cause the statues to explode like fragmentation grenades, and it replied affirmatively. Hoping that the sentries wouldn't attack until the damaged was done, he concentrated and channelled his power through the sword, hurling roaring fireballs and the statues and destroying them, sending superheated rock shooting through the chamber and tearing through more Woroghs with each explosion. Ironically the sentries made effective shields for any debris flying Wolfe's way, so he only had to dodge occasionally while casting fireballs at the statue. Soon all the Woroghs lay on the floor, dead or dying among the cooling pieces of rock, but the attack had taken a great amount of power.

He steadied his breath and listened. He heard some murmuring coming from beyond the crude barricades he had erected. The Woroghs were calling for means to quickly remove the statues, since they were smart enough to realise that they were all too easy pickings if they wormed their way between the statues blocking their entryways. Some of the whispers caught by his sensitive hearing revealed that the Woroghs were planning to storm in simultaneously through every entrance once the obstacles were removed.

The plan was to overwhelm him, so Wolfe set things up to make it a little more difficult for them. He began summoning statue-debris and dead bodies towards the threshold and created two man-high mounds to each side in front of the threshold narrowing it down enough to allow only two Woroghs room to fight adequately, or three Woroghs if they refrained from using sweeping, side-to-side attacks. He was done just in time, for as he levitated the last body into place, the statues blocking the entryways blew. He steeled himself for the final assault. He had to hold the line even if it cost him his life.

"None shall pass!" he screamed as the first Woroghs emerged through the acrid smoke caused by the explosion.

* * *

"We can't let him fight alone!" Matt whispered heatedly, even though he was well out of earshot of potential eavesdroppers. After everyone had safely been ushered into the palace proper, Matt separated the Rangers from the other evacuees and took them to a higher floor. "I'm not suggesting a direct confrontation, but we can still do a lot of damage. Since magic is so rare in the Mirror Realm, I'm willing to bet they've never met wand-wielders in combat. We can do this!" He glanced at the ten Combat Rangers who had volunteered to provide low profile security and settled his gaze on the younger ones. "Hiro, Veranus, Kumsa, you've never met Wolfe, so if you want to pass I'll understand. It isn't like you can be ordered into this, because technically we're not here on official Order of Illumination business."

Hiro Ui narrowed his slanted eyes. Hermione knew the Japanese wizard well, since he tended to go all out during training and frequently injured himself enough to require attention. Harry had once told her that if it had been up to him he wouldn't have let Hiro into the Order, since he appeared far too enamoured with the idea of going out in a blaze of glory. "I have heard the stories about him, and I know that he hunts Yamato Tetsuo. Yamato is a stain on Japan's honour, and that is enough reason for me to help."

"Official business or not, I am a Ranger. I am morally obligated to stop evil," Veranus Akwenje added.

"I have not been around long enough to serve with him, but I _have _seen him in action when Yamato's army invaded Nomad Island and attempted to storm Concordia. I'll help," Kumsa Yalew said, then added with a bit of wry humour, "though I am not sure he'll need it."

"He had a wand when he created the cyclone that swept up the enemy. He doesn't have a working wand _now_," Matt pointed out, now speaking in his normal voice. "Yeah, he might be able to take them all by himself, but I don't want to risk it."

"Neither do I," Nicolai's voice echoed across the room. "I'm coming with you."

Hermione had been wondering where he'd wandered off to after taking a moment to reassure the guests. He was clad completely in a full-plate metallic blue and silver suit of armour with the golden emblem of a strange dragon on the breastplate. Surprisingly enough the armour didn't clank as Nicolai walked. The only sound coming from him was the swish of the midnight blue cape that was fastened to the pauldrons. The helmet reminded Hermione of Roman styles, though it completely encircled his head and overlapped the gorget like later medieval knights' helmets did. As Nicolai approached, it opened up to reveal his face, seemingly splitting at the chin and turning upwards along the hinges. The rear part of the helm protecting the wearer's back and neck stayed down..

"You're not going anywhere," Matt erupted angrily. "It's too dangerous. I don't want my daughter widowed, and you're too valuable to be at the front lines."

"That might be the case, but I have very good reasons to participate. First of all, Max is my cousin and he's been fighting to depose a very evil regime, partly on my behalf. That leads me to my second point, namely, that I can't afford to stay behind while you and the others fight. Pacifists Shamballah's people may be, but it would still be bad for my image, and it would _definitely_ send the wrong message to the enemy. I don't want them thinking I'm an immature boy-king who is afraid to risk his own neck. Thirdly"—Nicolai nodded towards Sahid Khan—"he's been drilling me in both duelling and armed combat. He can verify my competence, if that's what you're worried about."

Khan nodded. "I needed to show the kid everything only once for him to repeat it flawlessly. His ability to learn isn't limited to books."

Matt seemed to deflate. "Fine, but you're not going down there dressed like that. Prancing around in your royal armour will make you the centre of some very unwelcome attention."

"It isn't _my_ armour, but that of the emperor's personal guard. It's incredibly old and has very powerful enchantments on it. It'll protect the wearers from spells as well as more mundane damage, and—"

"It'll still attract attention," Ironheart interjected.

"Not if the rest of you wear them too. There's three dozen suits of armour for three dozen guards, and they'll resize to a new wearer. All you have to do is receive a brand on left shoulder from a magical branding iron. Technically there's the whole selection process for the emperor's personal guardsmen, but everyone who has managed to pass the Order of Illumination's selection process pretty much qualifies. If you're evil, the branding will kill you."

"So we need to get a brand before we can don these things?" Khan asked.

"Yes, but if you're concerned about a lifelong commitment, don't be. It fades after three years, because once every three years the guardsmen have to pass a number of tests to see if they were still worthy and competent."

"That's a relief, because I wasn't ready to sign up for a life-long commitment," Chayton Blackmoon said.

"Is there any armour for women?" Bihn Nguyen asked. A veteran Vietnamese Ranger and one of the few females in the Martial Division, she clearly wasn't about to let the boys have all the fun.

"When I said that the suits resized to fit new wearers, I meant women as well. The emperors of old believed that women made equally competent guards."

Ironheart clapped his hands. "What are we waiting for, then?"

Nicolai shook his head. "I need you to stay up here, grandpa. You and Jasmine have to ferret out the invaders' contact. We both know that Lord Cartagia's definitely conspiring with the Duchess of Astirian, but I don't know if he's the _only_ one. If you think Charlie Junior is up to it, ask for his help as well."

Ironheart was clearly disappointed, but it was obvious to everyone, himself included, that his grandson was right. His talents were needed elsewhere.

"Commander Ironheart?" Ginny's voice called out, and moments later she emerged from behind a warm red curtain obscuring the doorway.

"Commander no longer, my dear," Ironheart replied.

"Sorry, force of habit," Ginny said with a sheepish grin. "Aria wants to have a chat with you."

Ironheart turned to the assembled Combat Rangers. "My wife and mother-in-law apparently request my presence, and The Godmother doesn't like to wait, so I wish you good hunting."

"You were going to fight and leave me out of it?" Ginny burst out after Ironheart had left, her face reddening with anger.

"Ginny, we're combat Rangers. This is our niche," Matt protested.

"And you think I won't be able to hold my own? I'm stronger than I look, and _I can fly_."

"Holly's influence in Ginny could indeed unnerve our opposition and give us an advantage, Matt. The Draconians of old factor into the folktales of most Mirror Realm beings," Nicolai said.

"Yeah, but will she be able to fly while wearing armour?"

"I believe she _would_. These suits of armour were created when Nalhati blood was thicker and Draconians were more powerful, and still winged. I think the cape will have to be removed, but other than that, the armour will not impede Ginny's mobility."

"We should all leave off the cloaks," said Ghalid Osman, who was a Martial Division lieutenant. "We do not want the enemy to have anything to work with in case they get that close."

"If we co-ordinate properly it shouldn't happen, but that's an excellent point nonetheless."

"Guys, the more we talk about this, the longer Wolfe is on his own," Blackmoon pointed out.

"He's right. To the armoury!" Nicolai said, and gestured for the Combat Rangers and Ginny to follow him.

"Aren't you coming, Hermione?" Ginny asked.

Hermione shook her head. She wasn't nearly as good in a fight as Ginny was, and her instincts weren't really honed for battle. "I'd only get in the way. I think I'll go help Mr Ironheart ferret out the spy."

"Good luck with that."

"And _you_, try not to get hurt, all right?"

Ginny smiled confidently. "And make Harry a widower? Don't worry, I couldn't possibly do that to him."

* * *

Yes, the armour was bulky, but it was also surprisingly comfortable and quite light. Ginny had also expected the padded jumpsuit they wore underneath the armour, made up of quilted layers of cloth and batting, to make things uncomfortably hot, but she had a hunch that it was also imbued with magic that made it more comfortable for the wearer. To her relief, Nicolai had been right about the armour adapting itself to accommodate her wings, and even better, the armoured gauntlet disappeared from her hand only to re-appear hooked to her side when it occurred to her that it would be hard to conduct proper wand movements with them.

"Good thing the armour just appeared on our bodies the moment we touched them," Matt said. "It took the Muggle knights of old quite a while to put on their armour. It isn't like throwing on some clothes. You can't do it in a hurry."

"I wonder what my father would think if he saw me dressed up like a Christian crusader," Osman wondered out loud.

"We don't look like the crusaders. The helmet looks Roman, and besides, full plate armour developed somewhere in the late fourteenth century. They didn't have this kind of armour during the crusades," Bihn Nguyen said.

When no one answered, she interrupted the practice sweeps and thrusts with the weapon she had chosen in the emperors' personal guards' extensive armoury and noticed the odd looks her male colleagues were giving her.

"What? It's a hobby!"

"And I thought I knew you like the back of my hand," Khan muttered, before continuing to familiarise himself with his own weapon.

Like most of the others, Ginny had picked a sword. Hers was a two-foot-long leaf-shaped blade resembling Celtic designs, with a eight inch handle that could accommodate both her small hands. Hiro Ui's looked very much like a Japanese Katana save for the fact that the gilded hand-guard looked like that of medieval western swords, and Bihn Nguyen's resembled a Chinese sabre. The others, except for Khan, Osman, and Matt, who were armed with a flail, war hammer, and mace respectively, all carried more traditional medieval broadswords. One thing _all_ their weapons had in common was the magic glow surrounding each of them.

"I hope that damned brand stops itching when it's time to fight," Blackmoon grumbled. "It's distracting enough to get me killed."

Ginny agreed about the itching part, though it was diminishing rapidly. She wondered what Harry would think of her new tattoo.

"Don't jinx yourself by saying those things," Magnus Brody said warily. He had been silent for an uncharacteristically long stretch of time, and judging from the look in his eyes, she could tell there was something on his mind.

"Hard to jinx myself without holding my wand, but I know what you mean. Are you okay?" Blackmoon asked, also having picked up on Brody's unease.

Brody shook his head. "I'm losing my edge. Ever since Eilis told me she was pregnant, any remotely dangerous situation terrifies me. I'm holding on too tight."

Hiro Ui gave Brody an odd look. "Our job is not _that_ dangerous."

"You say that because you weren't here before Harry Potter joined the Order … before Voldemort's death."

"The attrition was terrible," Khan said. "I lost many friends. Things only became quiet after Potter and Wolfe became nearly invincible."

"The only father who can do our job without worries would be Harry, and I think he worries anyway." Matt reached over and clapped Brody's shoulder armour with his armoured gauntlet. "Use the thought of going back to Eilis and your kid to stay extra sharp, and that if something _should_ happen to you, they'd be well taken care of. If you let your fear paralyse you, you'll be dead that much quicker."

Ginny scowled at Matt's choice of words, which had only increased Brody's unease further. Then she stepped over to Brody and linked her free arm through his. "You've already learned how to embrace the consequences of your dangerous job when it comes to your own person. You need to learn to extend it to your family. I know what you're going through."

"Thanks, Ginny."

"Is everyone ready?" Nicolai called from the armoury's door.

"Yeah, we're ready," Brody replied.

Everyone followed Nicolai out of the armoury and down a mazelike set of corridors, while he explained the plan forming in his mind. They were headed towards the guards' dock, where they would take one of the ships and fly down a few floors so they could work their way up to the intruders and catch them in the rear.

They reached the statue of a guardsman holding a spear. It immediately stepped aside, and the wall behind it slid open almost noiselessly. Nicolai led them down a spiral stairway and into a vehicle storage dock, where they found three blue ships. They were about between sixty-five and seventy feet long, with a twenty-three foot beam. Two of them were very dusty and in obvious need of repair, but one looked like it had recently been restored to full working order. It had two crystal cone 'masts' but no sails. Otherwise it looked a lot like a Muggle ship, with an ornate three-dimensional version of the dragon on her armour adorning the bow.

Nicolai ascended the gangplank and headed straight to the elevated rear deck, where the bridge was located.

"Are you sure this thing will fly?" Matt asked.

"This ship is in peak working condition," Nicolai assured him. "With Grandpa's help I enticed a few retired Ranger artificers to work on this in exchange for a free gemstone on their wands."

Ginny smiled to herself as she realised why Li-Mei Yee had returned to Concordia, and why she and Janos Gaal frequently went to Shamballah. She ran her hand against the smooth transparent column and felt an odd magical tingle run up her arm.

"Welcome to the emperors' personal guard, Lady Draconian," a soft female voice seemed to whisper in her ear.

"What was that?" Veranus Akwenje asked, looking around nervously.

"The ship," Nicolai answered. "_Cloud Jumper_ is intelligent. Her magical brain is below-decks." He turned to Ginny. "She welcomed you."

"I know." Ginny tapped her ear. "I'm wearing your translator."

Nicolai beamed at the implied compliment. Then he began to issue orders, telling the ship to launch and take them down a number of floors. The crystal cones began to glow and the ship lurched into movement. The gangplank retracted as the wall in front of the ship opened into a circle, and moments later they were in the Shamballah sky. Looking back, Ginny just managed to see the wall magically close up again before the ship began to descend quite rapidly, the sudden dip making Ginny's stomach flutter pleasantly. Just as suddenly, the ship decelerated its descent so quickly that it nearly forced Ginny to her knees.

The ship manoeuvred itself as closely as possible to Imperial Tower, and the gangplank extended outwards again, connecting the ship to a large window. Lieutenant Osman didn't bother with the plank, leaping cleanly from the ship back into the tower. The others followed with extreme swiftness—a testament to their training—and Ginny had to put her best leg forward to keep up. In retrospect she needn't have bothered to hurry, since Nicolai had lingered some ten seconds to give the ship some instructions, and when Nicolai had joined them, the Rangers all turned to him.

"Now what?" Matt asked softly, while he obviously kept an eye out for lurking foes and made Ginny feel a bit foolish for admiring the tapestries covering the walls while she should have been doing the same.

"I know where the enemy is, but we shouldn't rush in there, should we?" Nicolai said. "We should have done this earlier, but I believe we ought to form partner-teams and groups before we proceed."

"Right!" Lieutenant Osman nodded, taking charge as the ranking officer. "Savin and Weasley-Potter will form a team with me. Ui, and Nguyen are team two. Kelly with Akwenje are team three, Blackmoon with Yalew are team four, Khan with Montalban … five, and Brody with Saibou are team six. Team six will join my team if groups are to be formed, and rest of you separate by odds and evens. Questions?"

No one said anything.

"Good, then we move!"

Imperial Tower's corridors were lined with decorative columns, so it wasn't hard to advance while staying under cover. The pairs and trio leapfrogged from cover to cover, with one pair always covering the corridors while the others advanced. Soon they began encountering the bodies of the unfortunate souls who had happened upon the intruders. Some of them had been completely eviscerated, and catching a glimpse of Nicolai's eyes, Ginny saw that he was as shocked as she was.

They didn't encounter any opposition until the next floor, where they ran into a patrol of four goblin-like creatures, the main difference with goblins being that they were as taller and nastier-looking. They wielded glistening metal staves tipped with flat oval heads that looked like they had quite keen edges. One of them had what appeared to be the same staff-like weapon coiled around his forearm with the oval head serving as a small shield, revealing an unusual property for such a weapon.

They strode through the corridor like they owned the place, obviously not expecting any resistance from the notoriously pacifistic people of Shamballah. Brody, who was up front with Zili Saibou, relayed a plan to Lieutenant Osman using hand gestures that had become second nature even if Ginny herself didn't use them often. However, since Rangers from other divisions at times were required to enter dangerous areas, they constantly received refresher courses, which enabled Ginny to understand what Brody was suggesting. He wanted two stunners to strike each creature in case—Ginny guessed— they happened to be more resistant to the hex than their size would suggest.

Osman nodded and signalled for teams two, three and five to each take aim at one of their foes, and extensive training protocols detailing which team was team was to aim at which target prevented two or more teams from aiming at the same one. Each goblinoid was neatly struck by a pair of stunners to the face, snapping their heads back and blowing them each back a dozen feet or so. They had barely hit the ground when the same teams yanked the goblinoids towards them with Summoning Charms, instead of advancing forwards and possibly exposing themselves to an unseen second patrol which might have been following the first one through the curving corridor. Even though the Rangers hadn't heard any shouting as a result of their attack, it didn't mean that there was no-one there. History had taught the Rangers that plenty of foes had more common sense than garden gnomes, which actually came out to see what the commotion was all about during de-gnomings.

After making sure that the goblinoids were unconscious and searching them for additional weapons, the Rangers conjured chains and wrapped the prisoners in them in such a position to make it impossible for even the best contortionist to wriggle out of them. They proceeded to shoot one more stunner into each goblinoid for good measure, before propping them up behind the columns and Disillusioning them. Then Brody and Zaibou Disillusioned themselves and went forward to check for ambushes, and they returned thirty seconds later, declaring the passage to be safe.

The Rangers continued unchallenged until they reached a straight corridor with set of stairs at the end, leading to the floor where Wolfe had headed off the intruders. Twelve goblinoids emerged from the stairs, appearing much more alert than the patrol the Rangers had waylaid earlier. Maybe that patrol should have checked in somewhere by now, causing the other goblinoids to suspect something. Ginny's heart began to pound more quickly. The Rangers numeric superiority was down to one now, and the odds of a quick and silent strike were slim.

"Looks like we can't do two stunners each this time," Osman muttered.

"If they see me hovering in the middle of the corridor, they might be too baffled to see their friends go down after your first salvo," Ginny whispered.

"Are you crazy? It's too dangerous!"

"The ceiling's twenty feet high, and fifteen wide. That's enough room to manoeuvre. And I've still got my wand to defend myself with."

"The added distraction _will_ significantly increase our chances," Nicolai added.

Osman shot an inquiring glance at Khan, who nodded. "All right," he relented.

Ginny rose from her crouch and concentrated, soon feeling the wings sprouting out of her back and sliding between magically appearing slits in both the padded clothing beneath the armour and the armour itself. Then she unfolded her wings and took to the air, with her wand already in her hand.

It didn't take long for the goblinoids to notice her, and their beady eyes went wide when they did. They started towards her with their battle-staffs raised, barking something that her translator didn't recognise, which meant that Nicolai probably didn't know their language yet. The pair up front went for boomerang-like weapons they had, tucked in a bandolier slung over their torsos. All the goblinoids had their attention on her.

Wanting to give her fellows better ranges and angles, Ginny slowly flew backwards, getting the goblinoids to follow her. She desperately wanted to glance at the other Rangers to see if they were about to attack, but she knew her eyes might betray their presence. She wished she had a visor, and suddenly something slipped down over her eyes from nowhere, slightly darkening the way she saw things. Then she remembered how her armoured gauntlet had disappeared earlier, and concluded that the armour probably had many hidden qualities she didn't know about.

Smirking with delight, Ginny glanced left and right and saw her fellow Rangers tensing for the attack. She pointed her wand at the rear goblinoids. While discussing bedroom affairs with some fellow women in the Artificer Division, Gudrun had claimed never to need this spell since her own body was always more than ready for 'action' when the need arose. The absurdity of that thought crossing her mind at a time like this wasn't lost on Ginny. Gudrun had once confessed to thinking about these matters at the oddest of times, and Ginny concluded that her friend must have rubbed off on her a bit.

_"Lubricus!"_ she shouted, concentrating to put extra power behind the spell. A jet of slippery fluid shot out of the tip of her wand and arced over the goblinoid formation, splattering on the floor behind them. Maintaining the spell, she began to drench the goblinoids as well as the floor around and beneath them, working her way to the forward goblinoids.

Twelve stunners shot out towards the foes in pairs, knocking six goblinoids unconscious. The remaining six proved to have excellent reflexes by attempting to dodge only a fraction of a second later, but the lubricant Ginny had doused the floor with foiled their attempt. They slipped and fell face-first, flat on their backs, or on their sides. In any case, it left them at the mercy of the other Rangers, who finished them quickly and efficiently.

"Don't forget to take the lubricant off before you chain them," Ginny called as she gently descended. "We don't want them slipping free in case they wake up."

"Don't use that tone on us. We're not your husband," Matt shot back.

"I wouldn't have needed to remind Harry. I already have _him_ well trained."

Matt laughed good-naturedly and waved off her comment. "Seriously, nicely done, Ginny. What would we do without you?" he added, winking at her flirtatiously.

Ginny felt her face warm up and was glad that the helmet and visor covered most of her face. "Gudrun wouldn't let me hear the end of it if I allowed something to happen to you."

Everyone chuckled at this, before resuming their work and stowing the bound goblinoids out of sight. Then they continued their way, carefully ascending the spiral stairs, ever vigilant for a goblinoid that might pop up around the wall's curve. Two pairs did, and promptly fell to salvos of stunners before they could even blink, and the Rangers didn't bother to hide them this time. They didn't even stop them from rolling down the staircase, merely sidestepping to allow them to tumble past.

As they got nearer and nearer to the top, the echoes of battle began to reach the Rangers' ears. They were very close now.

"All right, we go in as groups," Osman said. "We have to do our best to keep a distance between us and the enemy. The reaction time they showed earlier suggests that they're extremely quick, so I don't want to engage them close up unless I have no choice. Questions?"

No one said anything, so Osman beckoned Zili Saibou and Magnus Brody to join his team, while the other pairs formed quartets. Osman led them to the landing of the stairs and carefully peeked around the corner to their right before returning to the Rangers.

"This seems like a good spot to defend from. They can't come in from our backs, so we can concentrate on firing in front of us."

"Unless they descend some of the other stairs and make their way to this one," Nicolai cautioned. "They could outflank us if they do that."

"Right, so we have to keep someone in reserve to watch the stairs." He looked at Ginny. "You earlier creativity notwithstanding—"

"Why don't you let Nicolai act as a look-out?" she whispered acerbically. "He's barely started his training year!"

"I've seen what he can do," Khan countered. "Officially we'll keep him a trainee so as not to give the others the impression that he's being treated preferentially, but he'll be working in full capacity."

Ginny heaved a resigned sigh. This was her childhood all over again, only there wasn't a mother to manipulate into telling the oppressing forces off. "All right."

Osman nodded. "Excellent. My group will cover the corridor's imaginary middle. The even-numbered teams will cover the right, and the odd-numbered teams will cover the left. Four people to one sector. There are a lot of them waiting, so make your spells count. Now, if some try to outflank us and start coming from the stairs, we will need to redistribute our positions." He turned to look at Ginny. "Ui, Akwenje, and Zaibou will withdraw to support you. Four wands ought to be enough to cover the stairs."

"Could you spare one person from your attack?" Ginny asked. "I'd like to conjure up some traps along the stairs, but I need someone to stand guard in case the opposition gets smart early. He would rejoin you immediately afterwards."

"I'd like to volunteer for that," Nicolai said quickly. "I know some spells that'll turn those stairs into an obstacle course."

"What if we need to use those stairs to escape?" Matt asked, frowning.

"It won't be anything a _Finite Incantatem_ can't fix."

"All right. Then go make me proud, son."

"It was _my_ idea," Ginny huffed.

Matt grinned. "I know, but too many compliments to _you_ might seem like flirting. If word were to get back to our significant—"

"That's enough, Kelly," Osman interrupted, though his expression didn't match the severity of his tone.

"Yes, dear—oh … sorry, Ghalid. It was the force of habit. You sounded like you were channelling my wife."

Osman shook his head amidst subdued chuckles. "Focus!" He pointed to where the sounds of battle were coming from. "We need to take the pressure off Wolfe."

That immediately sobered everyone up, and Ginny felt bad for letting her pride get in the way when time was of the essence.

"Ready … go!" Osman commanded, and eleven Rangers scrambled into the corridor, hurling curses at an enemy invisible to Ginny and Nicolai. She wanted to take a peek herself, but she knew she had to get to work.

"Why don't we transfigure the whole stairs into a ramp and spray it with lubricant?" Ginny asked Nicolai, as they hustled down the stairs

"That _would_ be a quick and effective solution, but it would be better to have them waste as much time as possible if they choose to attempt the flanking manoeuvre. If they work out too quickly that there's no way to reach us, they'll rejoin the main group, which will increase the pressure on our colleagues."

Ginny smiled. "You know what? _You_ lay the traps and I'll keep watch."

"Stay behind me," Nicolai said, before he began muttering spell after spell, laying curses in an almost random manner. Ginny had intended to spread the traps a bit more or less evenly throughout the stairway to make it easier remember where they were and to dismantle them on the way down. The downside to that was that the enemy might recognise the patterns and leap over the cursed steps. Nicolai, on the other hand, probably wouldn't have any problems remembering _exactly_ where he had placed the traps, and his random system would also make it more unpredictable for the enemies ascending the stairs. He worked his way up the stairs much more quickly than Ginny would have been able to, and when he was done he gestured for her to follow him back to the top, where he placed the final touch on the trapped stairway by turning the final fifteen steps into a ramp and spraying copious amounts of slippery lubricants, onto its surface.

"I doubt they'll ever get to this trap," Ginny muttered.

"Don't be so sure. I made all the others one-shot traps. Like I said, I don't want to discourage the opposition too early. I want to get all the way up to the base of the ramp before they realise that there's no way to reach the top."

"No wonder you beat Ron at strategy games all the time."

Though the helmet obscured most of Nicolai's face, Ginny could still see it redden a little bit.

"The origin of my intelligence hardly makes our matches fair, but thanks. I'll go join the others now. Give a shout when the enemy reaches the ramp."

Ginny watched him run back and take a spot between Lieutenant Osman and Magnus Brody, who were both in deep concentration as they fought to keep the enemy at bay while taking down as many of them as possible. This went on for several tense minutes that each feeling like an eternity and added to Ginny's feeling of uselessness. Just as she started to contemplate disobeying orders and joining the rest of the Rangers—after all, it wasn't like this was an official Ranger mission—an angry shout echoing up the stairs told Ginny that the goblinoids were indeed attempting to outflank them and had tripped one of Nicolai's first traps in the process.

As Nicolai had predicted, it wasn't enough to cause the enemy to give up, and shrieks of agony followed by shouts of outrage grew increasingly louder as the enemy ascended the stairs. Ginny was about to alert the other Rangers, when the whole place started quaking and a surge of magic gave her goosebumps under her armour.

* * *

The Woroghs initially tried to kill Wolfe with their sharp boomerangs, but gave up on that when he kept Banishing them back into their ranks, killing the throwers or the Woroghs behind the throwers. After a few dozen of them fell this way, they began attacking him two at a time, and finally three at a time in an attempt to crowd him. After an incalculable number of attempts, the ones trying to attack him now had to climb over the bodies of their dead fellows to reach him. The pile of bodies had grown with each attack, turning it into a rampart. Wolfe had built a fortress of dead Woroghs.

He didn't know how many Woroghs he had killed, but he knew that he hadn't killed enough. As he fought he could still hear hundreds of Worogh voices on the other side of the pile of dead bodies, and as time wore on, his desperation grew. His basic human instincts screamed at him to flee while he still could. The dragon hide coat Gudrun and Ginny had given him—which had served him faithfully for these many years spent in the Mirror Realm—hung in tatters across his shoulders. It had held up well for a while, deflecting many blows that got through his defences despite his best efforts. Without it, Wolfe would have been cut to ribbons by now. As it was, he could feel the subsequent grazing hits occasionally scored by the more talented Yooghs burning like oncoming frostbite, the pain further being inflamed by his own salty sweat that was now literally pouring off him.

From the corner of his eye, Wolfe saw a warrior standing on top of the pile of bodies trying to take aim with the boomerang. He quickly pulled a freshly decapitated but still standing Worogh in front of him, and the boomerang buried itself in the body with a squelching sound. The sneaky thrower howled with frustration and leapt off the gruesome elevation with his staff raised, intending to cleave Wolfe in half. Wolfe shoved his shield away and took a large step backwards while bringing his sword in a high overhead guard. The Worogh's reflexes were quick, and Wolfe saw the metal staff go slack while the Worogh was still coming down. It was an obvious attempt at disarming him, something Wolfe had hoped that the Worogh would do upon seeing him holding the sword in a high guard. He stepped aside at the last moment, causing the now whip-like staff to slap the floor, the still-rigid oval head burying itself in the marble. The Worogh tried to dislodge it with a flick of his wrist, but the head was firmly stuck in the floor, as Wolfe knew it would be. Stiffening the staff again probably would have made the staff easier to withdraw, but Wolfe never gave him the chance to do that. He slashed the Worogh across the belly, and it crumpled to the ground with an uncharacteristically peaceful sigh.

The next Worogh was already arcing his staff at Wolfe, and a tired Wolfe failed to sufficiently dodge it. The attack caught a gap between the remains of Wolfe's dragon-hide coat and opened a shallow cut in Wolfe's left shoulder. He managed to parry the follow-up slash and retaliated with a roundhouse kick to the Worogh's chest, putting enough magic into the kick to crush the Worogh's chest. It pitched back and fell on top of other dead Woroghs, coughing up mouthfuls of blood. The Worogh didn't look like he was strong enough to defend himself any longer, but Wolfe didn't take any chances and stepped on the hand still loosely holding the staff before finishing the Worogh with a thrust in the eye. Then, expecting the next Worogh to attack him any second, he leapt back farther onto the threshold with a backwards salto.

There were no Woroghs storming down the pile of bodies. Instead, the armoured Yoogh tribe chieftain stood on top of the pile, wielding a sword Wolfe never thought he would see again. The black hilt's hand-guard looked like a pair of batwings sprouting out from a evil-looking skull. The skull's eyes were set with twin red gems that burned brightly like demonic eyes burning with malice. The blade was surrounded with a dirty red glow. Maximus had wielded that blade when Wolfe had been trapped in the recesses of his own mind.

It must still have been aboard Yamato's wrecked centipede ship, and Yamato must have made a brief stop to recover it before fleeing the Immortal's circle. Wolfe had a hunch that the sword was part of the reward the Yooghs had accepted in return for this attack … along with another item that belatedly caught Wolfe's eye.

When analysing his fight with the minotaur Rhasdogul, Wolfe had inquired about the source of the minotaur's abnormal strength. Resistance spies familiar with the minotaur had confirmed that an elaborate obsidian-studded leather belt had increased his already considerable minotaur strength. Now the Yoogh chieftain was wearing that belt, which meant that Wolfe couldn't count on overpowering him if they locked blades.

With a smile showing a row of razor sharp teeth, the Yoogh chieftain descended the pile of corpses, showing contempt for his own fallen men as he jabbed the sword into the bodies to provide him with support.

"You are a worthy fighter," the chieftain said in a scratchy voice. "It will be a delight to taste your blood upon my sword."

"_You_ are most definitely _not_ a worthy fighter," Wolfe retorted. "Had you been one, you wouldn't have sent your underlings to their deaths in an attempt to tire me out."

The chieftain grinned evilly. "Attempt? A successful attempt, I would say!"

Wolfe shrugged nonchalantly. "I was tired when I killed Rhasdogul too. It didn't matter that he was wearing that belt," he added coolly while pointing at the chieftain's middle with his sword, and was satisfied by the wave of dismay rolling off the Yoogh chieftain. "Yeah, so much for the element of surprise. Come on, pal. I want to get this over with."

All the Yoogh-tribe Woroghs he had faced so far had shown a great deal of competence. Their movements had been economic and well balanced, and Wolfe knew that the only reason he was still alive was because of his magical edge and because he was very good at implementing the required footwork that kept him from being outflanked. The chieftain seemed to be planning to face him alone, so dealing with flanking attempts wouldn't be a problem in this case, though he _did_ keep an eye on the dozen or so Woroghs balancing on the piles of corpses around the mini arena, in case they tried something.

Tendons popped and cartilage cracked as the chieftain moved his neck and shoulders to loosen them, and Wolfe saw that the armour stretched and contracted with his torso for maximum flexibility. It seemed to be made in the same manner as the staff-weapons, namely, with spun metal wires. Wolfe knew that the Woroghs could make high quality magical weapons, so didn't count on his magical blade to be able cut through the armour. After all, it hadn't been able to slice though the staff-weapons either. He needed an alternative strategy which would end the fight quickly, because he was in no shape for a contest of strength. Having made that mistake with Rhasdogul, he wasn't about to tire himself out like that again. He wished he could incinerate his opponent with a fireball, but he instinctively knew that doing that at this point would put too much of a strain on his magic.

Wolfe planted his left foot forward and held the blade in front of him in a middle guard, waiting for his opponent to attack. He didn't have to wait long, for the chieftain quickly attacked, slashing low and aiming for Wolfe's leading leg in an obvious attempt to gauge his reflexes. It wasn't a serious attack, and it was the only opening Wolfe needed. He quickly stepped in with his right leg, twirling to slap the red-glowing blade to the ground and keep the chieftain from turning his attack into an upward-moving one. The resulting leverage from the opposing blade's resistance allowed Wolfe to add force to the kick that would come after he raised his left leg and continued his move like a pirouette. The unorthodox move dazzled the chieftain like pirouettes dazzled ballet audiences and left them breathless. The chieftain was definitely left breathless after Wolfe's leg uncoiled in a high kick and slammed into his throat, crushing his windpipe.

The chief stumbled back, clutching his neck while he shot Wolfe an incredulous look. Until this very moment, Wolfe had never forgiven Master Lei for sending him to Muggle ballet lessons, which, according to Master Lei, were the best way to master the manoeuvre. The logic had drawn no arguments from Wolfe, but that fact that he would be forced to wear a skin-tight unitard _had_.

"You should consider yourself fortunate that none of your warriors will live to tell how easily you were defeated." Wolfe said, trying his best to sound casual and hoping that the onlookers wouldn't see his show of confidence for the bravado it really was. He had no idea how many Woroghs there were left, but he knew the answer was … "_Too many_."

"_You could still flee. You could defeat them by playing shadow games in the tower's corridors_," Jelly, who had kept silent so as not to distract him finally spoke up in his mind.

Wolfe knew the Woroghs had information on how to get around in the tower. He knew there would be no stopping them when they passed this point. They had previously moved in small groups and would resume doing so if he let them. He simply wouldn't be able to find them all in time, and they'd all gather at the top level. There was no guarantee that they didn't come prepared to remove whatever obstacles separated the palace proper from the rest of the tower. Nicolai's golems, along with the Rangers Wolfe had spotted in the ballroom, would probably defeat the remaining Woroghs, but not before some of his friends and many innocent people were cut to ribbons. Innocent people like his children.

The power of his emotions manifesting themselves in the form of the love for his friends and family awakened something in him. If his soul were like a trunk containing his magic, what he was experiencing felt like a false bottom popping open, revealing the trunk to _not_ be like the ones magically expanded to contain extra-dimensional space—which was a level he had already achieved—but a doorway to a chasm the size of the Grand Canyon that was filled with boundless energy. He instinctively knew that he was tapping into the very source of magic, the only limit to his power being how his body could handle.

Knowing that he now had plenty of energy to spare, Wolfe willed his wounds to heal themselves, which they did in the fraction of time it had taken him to heal himself in the past. The only time he had healed himself that quickly was when he and Harry had been one entity. He looked at the dying chieftain and saw a golden glow reflecting in his beady black eyes. Then he looked at the other Woroghs standing around him on the piles of corpses, their clothing flapping as if they were standing in high winds and their weapons gleaming in the golden light. They were terrified!

Wolfe smiled.

* * *

Ginny desperately wanted to see what was going on as screams of goblinoid agony echoed through the corridor behind her. She remained focussed on her objective and her attitude was immediately rewarded when a goblinoid appeared at the bottom of the ramp. He tried to ascend but immediately lost his footing and fell, smashing into the incline and sliding back, knocking over a comrade coming up behind him. He righted himself but didn't attempt to climb again. Instead he went for a bandolier slung across his chest, but Ginny never gave him the chance to draw whatever he was about to take out. An arrow shot out of the tip of her wand, flying straight into the goblinoid's mouth that had been open with surprise and causing it to tumble out of sight. She nailed the next one with a stunner between the eyes and found that the earlier precautions to fire two stunners at the goblinoids hadn't been redundant. The target was dazed, but still conscious, and she spared a moment to call for help.

Help appeared by her side about three seconds later, and together they began to pour curses down the stairway, hexing any goblinoid that showed its ugly face. They kept it up for two more minutes, until Osman's voice called for her to desist. Before she could ask why, she found herself being lifted and pulled back by an invisible force. Then Wolfe walked past her, covered in blood, surrounded by a golden aura, his braided forelocks curving upwards like a pair of antennae, and his ponytail hovering a few inches above his back instead of resting on it. He pointed the Phoenix Katana at the stairway and had it blow a sustained stream of fire, bringing forth the sounds of those dying horrible deaths.

When the screams had died away, he turned around and regarded the Rangers with a pair of odd-looking eyes. The irises had gone turquoise and the pupils had disappeared entirely. "Something doesn't add up."

"What's that?" Nicolai asked, apparently unfazed by the fact that his cousin had achieved the Phoenix Fire transformation and turned into a super sorcerer.

"I've just concluded that Yamato leaked information to lure me here."

"To attack the Astirian resistance in your absence resistance, perhaps?"

Wolfe shook his head slowly. "He must know by now that I'm able to teleport in phoenix form. I could be back with the resistance in the blink of an eye. The Yooghs weren't only meant to keep me busy, they were meant to keep me _here_. There must be something…" He didn't finish his sentence, concentrating instead and creating duplicates. He created _hundreds_ of duplicates, each transforming into a phoenix before disappearing in a flash of flames.

"Where are you sending them?"

"To look for something."

"More attackers?"

"I don't think there are any more mercenaries. The mercenaries were meant to divert our attention from this threat. You might want to begin sending our families back into the Earth Realm."

Nicolai's eyes widened with concern. "You think the threat is something like a bomb? A magical bomb?"

"We used something like that at Laketown to destroy Dementors. Yamato likes copying useful weapons invented by his enemies. No reason he can't employ it here, is there? I bet he didn't expect me to beat the Yooghs this quickly. _I_ didn't think I'd come out of that statue room alive at all."

"Why plant a bomb and risk killing his own people in the process?" Ginny asked.

"I do not think that sacrificing warriors under his own banner is something that would trouble Yamato," Hiro Ui muttered.

Wolfe nodded. "Precisely. They were set up for a double-cross too. It all clicked while I was wondering how the Duchess of Astirian could possibly afford the Woroghs of the Yoogh-tribe's employ. The only logical reason for her pulling this off would be if she didn't intend to pay them in full. She probably got them to come here on a small advance with the promise of a hefty bonus afterwards." He turned to Nicolai and Matt. "Get our families and get out of here before it's too late."

Nicolai turned to Matt. "There is no way everyone in Shamballah can be evacuated in time, so _I_ am not going anywhere. I won't abandon my people."

"And Mary won't abandon _you_!" Matt replied angrily. "Sorry, but you don't get to play hero. There are times when you need to shelve heroics and save yourself."

"Heroics have nothing to do with it," Nicolai said sadly. "Abandoning my people to save my own skin isn't an option. I have considerable capacity for rationalisation, but this goes beyond that. If I were to do what you are suggesting, I would fall into such a depression that your daughter and granddaughter's lives would be hell. Dying would be bad, but living would be even worse. Don't you see?"

Matt heaved a sigh of resignation. "When she finds out you're not leaving, we're going to have to stun Mary to get her out of here."

"We won't have to if we don't tell her until she's already in the Earth Realm. I'll accompany you to the gate and tell her that I'll follow along shortly."

"Yeah, that would be better," Matt agreed.

"We should begin with the evacuation," Osman spoke up, reminding everyone yet again that time was of the essence.

"Yes, we should," Nicolai said, and strode into the corridor strewn with goblinoid bodies.

The expression of Nicolai's face made Ginny's heart ache. What was supposed to be one of the most joyful days in his life turned out to be a nightmare. And she didn't even want to begin thinking about Mary's reaction when she found out. How would an eighteen-year-old woman—someone barely out of girlhood despite having been faced with the responsibilities of motherhood early—react to the love of her life dying on her wedding day?

Nicolai led them to a window in the thick outer wall, where _Cloud Jumper _turned out to be waiting for them. They hurriedly boarded the flying ship, which quickly took them to the hanger from whence they had departed earlier, where they disembarked and made their way up to the palace proper through the secret passageway.

"I found it," Wolfe said suddenly.

"Where is it?" a number of voices chorused.

"In front of the Umbral Gate," he answered, before transforming into a phoenix and vanishing into a burst of flames.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I'm sorry tobring thisup again, but I've noticed a drop in reviews. Now, I know thatthe last few chapters haven't exactly kept you on the edge of your seat, so I _do _understand. When I started writing this fic I had an 'ego-minimum' of twenty reviews per chapter with preferablt twenty-five or more. I have got over myself since then, and nowadays I really don't expect that many. Butbetween the two-hundred of you who have me on your favourite's list, and the hundred and twenty-five who have me on author alert,would it be too much to expect at least one fullreview-page, which is fifteen reviews?

You needn't worry that I'll stop if I don''t get enough reviews. I'll continue even if I get only one review per chapter. But it is nonethelessquite demoralising if only ten percent of the people whom you _know_ are reading your fic (author alerts) review.

Maybe my previouslystatedpreference for critical reviews was misunderstoodas wanting _only_ critical reviews. I do appreciate anoccasional pat on the back too.

Happy Holidays. The next chapter will be updated in the new year.

* * *

**Gogirl**: Yeah, and it is calledDangerous Liaisons.

**Lyambren**: No, I myself prefer concise description too when I'm reading online. However, I seem to be unable to work my own reading preferences into my writing. ;-)

**harrypotterfan777777**: Don't worry about Ginny and Ironheart. Not gonna happen.

**hootild**: So how did you like the destruction?

**blah29**: Don't worry about missing a chapter every now and then.

**Fragarach**: Me too.

**Lady of Masbolle**: In real life, the smallest things jog your memory too. And you'd be surprised how cliched romances are.

**RinnaMarie**: I always include data that allows the reader to discern how much time has passed, but you have to work for it.

**Saint Mike**:LOL. Yes.

**Elric Magus**: Was this enough fighting for you?

**Lipton**: Good call.

**Louis IX**: Sometimes a quick execution can be more satisfying than you think. But I understand what you're saying.


	23. Wolfe's Bane

Chapter 23

**Wolfe's Bane**

It looked like something Yamato had made. It was the size and shape of an average rain barrel, covered by glyphs Wolfe had already seen on anti-magic field generators. Knowing Yamato like he did, he instantly knew why Yamato had placed the device in front of the Umbral Gate. He had probably attuned it to the Gate's massive energy signature. If the Gate was opened, it would probably go off. Maybe it would even go off if the Gate was opened on the other side. Either way, the two smoking corpses next to the device suggested that it couldn't be approached without some severe consequences. He sent a duplicate over to see if it could move the device, but as the duplicate drew within seven feet, he winked out of existence.

Seconds later, a thin piece of folded parchment came floating out of a narrow slit in the device. It unfolded itself and an unwelcomingly familiar voice emanated from it. Yamato!

"I am very sorry, Mr Wolfe, but I have taken precautions against manifestations like your duplicates approaching my precious creation. Well, it seems that you managed to overcome my little diversion in time to find this surprise. Truth be told, I didn't think that even _you _would be able to fend off so many enemies and live. But it doesn't matter anymore.

"The device you see before you is a creation of mine I call the Cylinder of Annihilation. Once activated, it _cannot_ be deactivated, and I assure you that I am not bluffing. You may have noticed your duplicate's inability to approach the Cylinder. That is because I've made it capable of blocking any magic that reaches an anti-magic perimeter. And if your inferior brain by any miracle _did_ get to the point where it wonders how the magical countermeasure preventing anyone from attempting to touch the Cylinder works in spite of the anti-magic, I'll indulge you," Yamato continued gloatingly. "I've refined anti-magic to a point where the generator can project its influence to certain parts, rather than simply all around the generator. All magic coming within seven feet will be stopped, but anything or anyone crossing that thin barrier will be burned to a crisp by my countermeasures. Quite ingenious, if I may say so myself. As for what my creation does, it vaporises everything within half a square mile. It otherwise leaves the rest of the surrounding real-estate intact but kills anything within a radius of twenty miles in all directions, including everything in the air and underground. Plants and earthworms are killed, sterilising the soil so nothing will grow there for a very long time. In short, it has the effect of one enormous Killing Curse."

Wolfe now understood why Yamato had the device placed in front of the Umbral Gate. He wanted to cut the Mirror Realm off from the Earth Realm with the primary explosion and let the Killing Curse effect take care of any future opposition that might arise to retaliate for the Gate's destruction, thus killing two birds with one stone.

"Open the gate to evacuate the weaklings you tried to protect, and it will explode. My spies took readings of the Gate's signature, and I attuned the Cylinder of Annihilation to detonate if it opens. Try to physically destroy it, and it will explode. Try to physically move it, and you will end up like the fool I instructed to install the final piece of the Cylinder. All you can do is save your own miserable hide by turning into a phoenix and Apparating to safety, but I doubt your emotions will allow you to abandon your relatives, who are undoubtedly present for the wedding. I win and you lose, Mr Wolfe, as we both knew would happen in the end."

The parchment smouldered and turned to ashes after the last sentence was spoken.

"_He didn't say that thing couldn't be moved physically,_" Jelly said. "_It might kill others, but I think **you** can take anything that Cylinder can dish out. I bet Yamato didn't count on **that**._"

"_Maybe. But I bet it'll hurt like hell,_" Wolfe replied.

"_Since when are you afraid of pain_?"

"_I'm not. Let's get dangerous._"

Wolfe dissolved all save one of his duplicates, wordlessly handed it his sword and wand, and he sent it to find Nicolai and tell him all Yamato had revealed about the weapon. If anyone could work out a way to get past Yamato's safeguard, it would be Nicolai. He hoped that his cousin would be able to do so quickly, because there wasn't a doubt in his mind that Yamato would be making more of these Cylinders of Annihilation very soon—if he didn't already have a few extra ones lying around.

Next, Wolfe approached the Cylinder of Annihilation and circled it, looking for something phoenix-claws could get firm purchase on, but not finding anything. He had hoped to grab it and teleport it a remote location where it wouldn't do much damage. It was a shame that he couldn't make his Animagus-forms grow to gigantic proportions like he could make his normal human form grow, for it would have solved his dilemma.

He turned to the crowd around him. "Stand back. I'm going to turn into a dragon, so I'll need a lot of space lest someone gets hurt."

The people surrounding him began to pull back in a hurry, and when Wolfe was satisfied with the distance, he began his transformation. He would rather have transformed into a roc, but the gargantuan bird's claws were too big to grasp a barrel-sized object tightly enough. A Hungarian Horntail, on the other hand, was just the right size grasp the device firmly in one paw, and he reached for it with a scaly arm … a _golden_ scaly arm. From the looks of it, the Phoenix Fire transformation still affected him.

He was relieved when the anti-magic barrier didn't neutralise his Animagus transformation, but his relief was quickly replaced by a feeling of agony shooting up his reptilian arm as he grabbed the Cylinder of Annihilation. He briefly wondered how badly it would have hurt if he hadn't been in an incredibly tough dragon-form, before shunting all irrelevant thoughts aside along with the pain and taking to the air with surprising finesse.

* * *

Ferreting out the miscreants who had helped organise the attack on the wedding hadn't been too difficult. Ironheart had instructed Hermione, Gudrun, Gavin, Mayumi, and even some of his wife's gangster relatives to pretend to feign ignorance as they 'speculated' about the attackers having had inside help. Not all the locals were using Nicolai's translation gadgets, but those who did informed those who didn't, and the word spread quickly enough. The guilty parties hadn't been able to stop their minds from dwelling on it, which allowed Ironheart, Jasmine, and Charlie to identify them with ease.

One by one, Ironheart had some trusted local aides lure the malefactors to an isolated area, away from the rest of the guests. Once there, they were detained by Hermione and Gudrun, who themselves were backed up by a pair of Italian wizards who were relatives on the Buccafusca side of the family. Ironheart had tried to decline 'The Godmother's' offer to use those goons as enforcers, but since she had taken the rude interruption of her great-grandson's wedding reception very personally, she had been unswayable.

In hindsight, Hermione had to admit that their unique style of dealing with traitors had been very effective. Three of the four captives were each sweating bullets in four conjured transparent and soundproof boxes, and one by the name of Refa had actually peed himself. An arrogant young Etti baron whose name eluded Hermione at the moment seemed to be unaffected by his treatment and confident that he would be able talk his way out of it. He pressed his face close to the glass and shaded the area around his eyes with his hands, hoping to peer through the reflective surface on the inside.

"That one doesn't look too frightened," Gudrun said, pouting disappointedly as she slowly walked back and forth in an effort to bleed off some of her nervous energy and boredom. "Why did I volunteer for this babysitting job? It's not like they're going anywhere." She snapped her fingers as a thought came to her. "Say, let's have some fun to pass the time. I bet he'll be frightened if we literally rattle his cage a little."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Honestly, it hasn't even been ten minutes! And the reason Ironheart insisted on _us_ being here is to make sure that our captives don't end up sleeping with the fishes before he gets the chance to pry some additional information out of them," she added, using a Muggle movie reference the significance of which she hoped wouldn't be clear to their probably pure-blood pair of enforcers.

Gudrun smirked and giggled at her comments and cast a furtive glance the two Italian wizards. The elder was one of Nicolai's uncles by marriage and was named Mario. By the looks of him, he was no stranger to the present situation, and he held himself as a seasoned enforcer.

The younger one—whom Ron had pointed out to Hermione yesterday and identified as Luigi Buccafusca—didn't seem any happier than Gudrun to be there. According the Order's intelligence files, he was the eldest grandson of Aria's deceased half-brother, who had been 'The Godmother's' son by her _real_ husband, and not the incubus that had sired Aria. Ron had also told Hermione that Luigi was already guilty of bribery and corruption in despite his relative youth, and that he was being groomed as the family's future head. That would certainly explain why he acted like his current task was beneath someone of his perceived stature. In fact, his demeanour strongly reminded Hermione of the deceased Draco Malfoy's.

He oozed cockiness and seemed convinced that Gudrun was being coy in the playful and provocative sense. He flashed Hermione and Gudrun a startlingly white smile that contrasted sharply with his Mediterranean tan, before approaching them in a manner that could only be described as a strut. Unlike Malfoy, Luigi actually _was_ handsome in a slick and suave way, though Hermione thought that it ought to be easy for any woman with half a brain to see through his superficial charm.

He stopped at an arm's length from Gudrun, giving her a very theatrical once over, brushing his shiny brown locks to the side in an obviously practiced manner as his face tilted back upwards.

"_Fa cosi caldo qui o e la tua presenza?_"

"Really, that was the lamest pick-up line I've ever heard," Gudrun said exasperatedly.

Hermione furiously searched for Nicolai's translator device she had tucked somewhere in the tiny purse that matched her dress. She had known that it would be quite safe from slipping out, but it appeared that it had slid around to her back.

Luigi's eyes didn't betray the puzzled look that came to other people's eyes when they didn't understand a word another person was saying, so she assumed that he either understood English well enough or that he was wearing Nicolai's magical translation gadget. He seemed unfazed by Gudrun's sharp reply, and slid closer to her instead, and continuing his seduction attempt a lower but still audible tone. "_Mi piacerebbe da pazzi vederti nuda_."

"Oh really?" Gudrun replied huskily, curling her lips up in a coquettish smile now.

Encouraged by her reaction, Luigi closed the remaining distance with Gudrun and leaned in closer, whispering things that Hermione wasn't able to hear. Annoyed beyond belief by the elusiveness of her own translation gadget, Hermione nevertheless continued her search, going through the contents of her purse more carefully. She kept shooting periodic glances at Gudrun, until she noticed that the smarmy's git's left hand was now freely roaming Gudrun's bum. Even more shocking, Gudrun appeared to be fondling him right back. Her hand was down his trousers!

Hermione knew that Gudrun's promiscuousness would certainly have had her labelled a nymphomaniac by the repressed Muggle physicians of the Victorian age, but she also knew her friend well enough to discern that _this_ was something she would _not_ do! She prepared to draw her wand and demand from Luigi that he remove whatever charm he had placed on Gudrun, but hesitated when his hand stopped roaming and his eyes grew wide with dismay. Hermione clearly saw the shape of Gudrun's hand contract, and realised that Gudrun had just been playing along. Hermione gleefully mimicked Gudrun's threat in her purse, causing her hand to accidentally close over the translator she hadn't been able to find.

"Now listen up, _bambino_!" Gudrun began mockingly, raising her voice and further contracting the hand she had down his pants, which caused him to flinch some more. "This little tooth-pick you call a wand wouldn't even register in my wizard's sleeve! Did I put it crudely enough for you to understand?" She quickly withdrew her hand from his pants. "And _this_"—she kneed him in the crotch with a vengeance before he got a chance to straighten up—"is for insinuating that I married my husband for his gold. He's a million times the man you'll ever be. He's got a _real_ wand, and he knows how to use it too!"

Luigi soundlessly sank to the floor while clutching his genitals. There wasn't enough air left in his lungs for him to utter a sound. Mario was now coming their way, though his booming laughter told Hermione that he felt that Luigi had got what was coming to him and that he wasn't going to give Gudrun any trouble over her chosen course of action. Hermione popped the translator in her ear in time for her to hear what he was going to say.

"You did very well, madam. This boy should have realised that you're too much for him to handle the moment he laid eyes on you. Isn't that right, Luigi?" Mario was now bending over Luigi and looking at him reprovingly.

Luigi only managed a whimper.

"Please take him back to his corner and keep him quiet," Gudrun grumbled.

"Anything for a lady," Mario nodded, and hauled Luigi to his feet, half-carrying him back to their assigned place.

Hermione was curious. "What was that lame pick-up line he used?"

"Is it hot in here, or is it just you?" Gudrun shook her head. "Something along those lines."

"And after that?"

"He said he'd sure like to see me naked. I can't believe he thought he was being charming. I bet the witches back in Italy swallow his crap because they hope to marry into his influential family."

Hermione opened her mouth but closed it again, unsure whether or not it was polite to ask Gudrun.

"What?" Gudrun asked, appearing to have noticed Hermione's discomfort.

"Did you really touch his … wand?"

"Eeewwww, no! Lord knows where his teeny weenie has been. I kept my hand outside his underwear." Gudrun gave Hermione a mildly offended look. "You didn't believe I was for real, did you?"

Feeling ashamed, Hermione lowered her gaze to the floor. "For the briefest of moments, yeah. But I assumed he placed you under a curse!" she added quickly.

"Hey, it's all right. I suppose I _was_ pretty convincing."

Hermione lifted her gaze as she felt Gudrun touch her arm. Searching Gudrun's face for lingering resentment, she was relieved to find none. She smiled and looked at the groaning Luigi. "_He_ certainly felt the impact as you drove home your point."

* * *

Ironheart was visibly relieved when Ginny and the other Rangers turned up unscathed. "Can I sound the all clear?"

"We're not out of the woods yet," Nicolai replied in even tones. His helmet was still in place, so Ginny couldn't see if his facial expression matched his voice.

"Where is Max?" Heidi's anxious voice sounded across the room. She swept in moments later, followed closely by Robert, Henry, Westley, and Rachel, who was carrying Sissi in her arms. Ginny knew it was familiar territory for the girl who—currently eight years and nine months of age—had taken a fairly active hand in helping Heidi with the younger children since she was seven and a half. She had even bathed and changed Danny a few times

"Sawing down the trees of the proverbial woods we're in. Apparently Yamato has made a magical bomb, and he had it placed in front of the Umbral Gate."

"He wants to cut us off from the Earth Realm?"

Nicolai nodded, causing the halves of the opening helmet to wobble slightly. "I think it's safe to assume that the bomb's placement is meant to thwart evacuation efforts. However, I'm afraid that our situation is far more dire than simply being cut off. Knowing Yamato, that device is powerful enough to do a whole lot of damage. Max will let us know as soon as he has more information."

Ginny cleared her throat. "Aren't you forgetting something important?"

"Right." Some brightness returned to Nicolai's eyes. "Thanks for reminding me. My concern for Shamballah makes it a bit difficult to see the brighter side of things." He turned to Heidi and Ironheart. "Max pulled off the Phoenix Fire transformation. He's a super sorcerer."

"Really?" Ironheart asked incredulously, while Heidi only managed a gasp.

"Is he stronger than Uncle Harry now?" Robert asked, reminding Ginny that Wolfe's transformation meant that he had indeed surpassed Harry. It was hardly surprising, since Wolfe had been pushing his powers to the limit ever since he began hunting Yamato, whereas Harry had been taking things easier.

Before Nicolai could reply to Robert's question, Mary, Elena, and Aria surged into the room and converged on Nicolai, competing to smother him with hugs and kisses.

"Don't you ever rush off to fight like that again!" Mary said in between kisses.

Elena sobbed. "We were so worried!"

"You nearly gave Mama a heart attack," Aria said, her lip movements telling Ginny that she was speaking Italian.

"Speak for yourself, Aria!" a gravely old voice with the slightest wheeze to it came from the entrance to the room. Turning towards the source of the sound, Ginny saw 'The Godmother' hobbling into the room aided by a walking stick. "You coddle the boy too much. He is an _emperor_, for crying out loud!"

Nicolai looked relieved that someone was sticking up for him. "Thank you, Mama Buccafusca."

"We have been very busy while you were out fighting," 'The Godmother' continued as if she hadn't heard him. "We caught four traitors, and Mr Fidelity here"—she nodded to Ironheart—"assured me that we got all of them. But I wouldn't put too much fate in the words of that worthless womaniser."

Ironheart looked indifferent at the obvious attack on his record. Ginny guessed that he was used to it by now. "If there are any more—and there may well be—they didn't attend the wedding and the reception. We've formulated a plan that might secure their co-operation in flushing out more spies and sending false information to Yamato. We get them to sign a hexed document that delivers a crippling curse if they even think about betraying us."

"Sound like Dark magic to me," Mary said warily, and turned her younger sister. "Could you and your friends step outside while we discuss grown-up things?"

"Really! _You_ only turned eighteen two months ago!"

"Please step outside for a moment," Heidi said with a delicate balance between gentleness and firmness, getting the desired effect from a grudging Robert and Rachel.

"Dark magic is only such if cast with evil intent," Nicolai began, after the children had left the room. "I know your tutors and teacher at school talked about darkness and light, but the truth is that life is grey. Is Levitating people only to let them fall to their deaths any better than casting the Killing Curse on them?" He held up his hand to forestall any comments. "Yeah, I know that the nature of the three Unforgivables requires the casters to have truly evil intent, and that the only way non-evil people can use them is by working themselves into a quasi-sociopath state of mind with all the inherent dangers to his or her soul. But is killing someone with a spell any different from killing them with a weapon? And what if the only way to save one or more people in a certain situation would require mind-control, torture, or killing? Life isn't black and white, and as an empress you need to learn to discern the shades of grey."

"If it's really necessary," Mary relented, though she still looked unhappy.

Ginny wasn't too thrilled either, but sometimes one couldn't afford to be squeamish. "How exactly will we get them to sign those documents? Subterfuge? Trick them into signing something that looks like a conditional pardon in exchange for whatever services you require of them?"

"Yes, how do you know they'll co-operate?" Mary observed astutely.

"Leave that to me and my people," 'The Godmother' said. "I'm gonna make them an offer they can't refuse."

"Max!" Heidi suddenly cried out, and a sideways glance from Ginny confirmed his entry. The children were on his heels, having taken his arrival as an opportunity to invite themselves in again.

Ginny immediately noticed that he wasn't covered in blood, though his clothes were still in tatters. This meant that it wasn't the real Wolfe, even though he was holding the Phoenix Katana and Wolfe's wand for some reason. Heidi, however, hadn't seen him earlier, so she had no way of knowing. She rushed over to Wolfe's duplicate and engulfed him in a tight hug, which the duplicate gingerly returned the gesture, careful not to poke Heidi with the sword's scabbard.

"I'm not the real Max, but he feels what I feel, so he'll nevertheless appreciate it."

"Oh!" a blush of embarrassment crept onto Heidi's face.

"You're actually better off. The real me is covered in smelly Worogh blood."

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but I need to know about Yamato's device," Nicolai said.

"Yamato calls it the Cylinder of Annihilation," Wolfe's duplicate began. "He claims that once it is activated, it can't be deactivated."

"He's here?" Ginny asked incredulously.

The duplicate letter shook his head. "He left a talking letter to gloat."

"Ah. But how can you be sure that he's not bluffing?"

"I was disabused of that notion when another duplicate winked out while trying to approach it. Yamato has worked out how refine the anti-magic bubble into a localised perimeter—like a wall of anti-magic. No magic can cross that wall."

"But something physical could?" Ironheart asked. "A being?"

"Beyond the anti-magic barrier there is a wicked lightning curse that cooks anyone crossing the barrier."

"That contradicts his claims that it can't be deactivated," Ginny said, thinking like she was trained to do by the senior artificers. "Why would that barrier otherwise be in place?"

Wolfe's duplicate held his hands up in a warding gesture. "Please don't interrupt me. If you let me talk I'll explain everything. Now, Yamato admitted that it _can_ be destroyed physically—probably by throwing something really massive on top of it from distance—but doing so will set off the explosion."

Ginny shook her head. It still didn't make sense. If the device exploded upon its destruction, it wouldn't need defences.

"Please hear me out before jumping to conclusions," Wolf's duplicate said, his intent stare revealing that he had been reading her mind. "The original Wolfe could feel the magic within the device become more intense and more powerful. My guess is that the defences are in place to prevent the device from being destroyed before it generates its maximum yield. Once it does, it vaporises anything within half a square mile around it and sends forth a wave of magical energy twenty miles in every direction, including underground, which means that being in a sealed off bunker won't save you from the energy's effects."

"Which are?" Elena Ironheart spoke up.

Wolfe's duplicate saw the children and hesitated briefly, before deciding that it needed to be said. "It allegedly sucks the life out of everything it touches, like the Killing Curse does."

Everyone save Westley and Sissi gasped with dismay. Ginny envied their youthful innocence.

Wolfe's duplicate looked at Nicolai. "I don't suppose you know how to deactivate such a device, would you?"

Nicolai narrowed his eyes pensively. "Did you tell me everything?"

Wolfe pondered the question for a few seconds, before he shook his head. "There is something else. Yamato said that the device would explode if it detected the Umbral Gate's energy. Is that possible, or was he bluffing? Wouldn't that anti-magic wall block such detection?"

"It's possible. Anti-magic effectively blocks spells from being cast, but not some enchantments already in place, like those on magical devices, remember?"

Ginny knew this to be because of the 'passivity' of the detection artefacts.

"And just like Vision Enhancement Goggles and Magic Communicators continue to work—although with vastly diminished effectiveness—the detection capability of the Cylinder of Annihilation won't completely be suppressed," Nicolai continued. "It's a good thing that you remembered that bit of information. It's given me more insight into how it works."

"You can deactivate it?" Wolfe's duplicate asked.

"It would have been possible with a slightly adapted anti-magic field generator, but I don't have one," Nicolai replied morosely.

Ginny wobbled over to a wall to hold herself upright. Fear unlike any she had felt in a long time wrapped its coils around her heart. If everyone here died, her vision of the future wouldn't come to pass. Robert wouldn't marry Rachel, and Danny wouldn't marry Sissi. Her anxiety prevented Ginny from feeling the relief of her own children being out of harm's way—at least—Richard and Holly. If what Hermione had said earlier that day was true and Danny and Sissi _did _have some sort of connection, Danny would surely waste away.

"Don't worry about it, cousin," Wolfe's duplicate said solemnly. "The Cylinder's defences can't harm a super sorcerer enough to keep him from grabbing it. The original turned himself into a dragon a few minutes ago. Most of Shamballah's metropolitan area is already out of danger, and in a few seconds all of Shamballah will be outside the reach of the death-wave."

Ginny's fear evaporated and was replaced by blessed relief, the sponginess in her legs slowly dissipating. Everyone else heaved a sigh of relief.

"Your daddy is awesome, Robert," Rachel piped up, eliciting laughter that bled off the tension for the assembled adults.

"Thank you, Rachel," Wolfe's duplicate replied

Nicolai frowned. "Did you say a few _minutes_ ago? Is your dragon-form that much faster now that you're a super sorcerer?"

"Fortunately, it is. I was as surprised as you are, though."

"Where are you taking the device?"

"To a rocky and barren place with very little life and even less _intelligent_ life. It'll keep the damage lim—" Wolfe's duplicate's breath caught in his throat as his complexion went ashen.

Heidi's arm slid around his waist. "What's wrong?"

"It appears the destination isn't as barren as anticipated."

* * *

He gained altitude and speed far more easily than a lumbering dragon normally would have, and knowing that time was of the essence, he decided to push the limits of his increased power. He flew faster and faster, faster than a dragon should be able to fly. While the big creature's flight was magical, it _was_ subject to drag, just like everything else. Now it seemed like that was irrelevant, and he kept accelerating until the landscape rolled away beneath him in a blur. He was dimly aware of the shockwaves caused by his flight. He had long since passed the city limits, and he pushed on in an attempt to reach a place he knew to be a barren region with very few inhabitants.

He felt the power within the Cylinder of Annihilation grow to critical proportions and he knew he was running out of time. He had ten minutes at most before it would explode, and he began to frantically search for a spot to leave the bomb, for he knew that even at maximum speed, it would take him a little over a minute to get out of the kill zone.

Finally he found a spot near a rocky mound that looked even more barren and devoid of life than the surrounding area and he dove towards it, waiting until the last possible moment to slow down for the landing. The ground shook and dust billowed out in all directions as his dragon-self landed a little too roughly. He set his burden down as quickly as possible, feeling blessed relief as soon as his dragon-claw was free of the continuous torture that had plagued it throughout the flight.

He spread his wings and prepared to take off, but stopped when he saw a pair of glowing eyes watching him from the gloom of one of the caves. Then he saw another pair of eyes, and another, and a few seconds later three spotted feline cubs toddled out of the caves, looking at him curiously. Their pale yellowish-orange mother wasn't far behind, and she quickly leapt in front of her cubs, growling menacingly at him. The average adult male Polm weighed in at half a ton, stood five-foot-six at the shoulder and was half-again as long, not measuring their bushy tails. The females' mass and proportions were seventy-five percent of that of the males', but even so the one threatening him would be no match for any but the smallest dragon-types.

Some people called them Thunder Cats, because their bellows sounded like thunder when they soared overhead, using the sound waves created by their sophisticated vocals to locate prey, like dolphins used their sonar. Their flight was accomplished by the folds of skin resembling a horizontally drawn up curtain running along the length of their sides. This excess skin would redistribute itself between and around their legs when they soared like flying squirrels. They had a magical jumping ability could propel them up to a nearly a mile high and two miles far under favourable weather conditions, after which they soared, powered by the gathered momentum of their leap and using their bushy tails as rudders.

As various scents wafted from several apertures in the rocky soil beneath him, Wolfe knew that he couldn't have been any more mistaken in his assessment of the presence of life. There had to be hundreds of mothers from prides all over the continent, rearing their young. Shocked, he reverted back to human form. These magical felines were as intelligent as phoenixes and unicorns, and they understood several of the languages spoken by the humanoid beings. They refrained from preying on other intelligent creatures because they knew the potential problems of retaliation that could bring. A pride of Polms had once offered him a meal when he had run out of supplies.

Wolfe looked at the mother, whose hostility had been replaced by surprise. "I'm sorry. I thought this place had very few living beings." He gestured to the cylinder. "That thing was created for the sole purpose of extinguishing life. It was in Shamballah, and I brought it here in the hopes to limit the deaths to a few shrubs and insects. I didn't know this place was a communal warren where you raise your young. I'll take my burden elsewhere, but I won't be able to go far enough for you to be safe. Tell the others to leave this place immediately and soar for Shamballah. Their leaders are from my pride, and I promise you that you will be allowed to finish raising your cubs there until a new place can be found for you."

"It is as foreseen by the centaurs," Jelly translated her growls flawlessly as she answered. "You are the Golden One. The unwilling herald of doom. We expected this, but we had hoped that it would not come to pass this soon. Your warning will be heeded." The female stalked forward, and Wolfe saw that she couldn't possibly be the cubs' mother, for there were too many grey streaks in her fur. Either way, she didn't waste any time in throwing her head back and roaring out a general alarm call.

Wolfe didn't wait around to watch the evacuation. He immediately changed into a dragon again, endured the pain as Yamato's hellish invention tried to fight off his grip, and took to the sky once more. He knew there was only one safe place for that device to detonate, and it was as high in the air as possible. He had literally risen to great heights before destroying Korumu's Stone, and he knew he could do so again, but he didn't know whether there was enough time to get high enough since he racing the clock this time. He looked over his shoulder and saw the ground increasingly lose definition as he gained more altitude, yet there was a long way to go before reaching the twenty miles. The surging energy within the Cylinder of Annihilation told him that he had run out of time. The Polms were still too near.

There was only one thing he could do. He pressed the Cylinder of Annihilation into his scaly underbelly and doubled over in mid air, completely enveloping it in his reptilian flesh. The he concentrated on his own magic, shaping it into a shield where his skin was being seared by the device. Feeling the shield take shape, he allowed himself a small smile at having found a way around Yamato's countermeasures. Hopefully it would be enough to smother the explosion and the resulting effects, though he harboured no illusions that he'd survive. He knew he was strong enough to survive the physical part of the blast—though barely—but he knew that even his vast reservoir of power offered no protection from the Killing Curse. Had he been ignorant about the protection he had inherited from Harry, it might have protected him one more time. Even though he was again sacrificing himself for others, he couldn't banish that tiny voice of expectation in the back of his mind, which wouldn't have been there if he hadn't known about the protection. Now he knew why good old Aberforth had kept the information to himself.

"_It's been an honour, lad_," Jelly said solemnly.

"_It's been nice knowing you too, Jelly,_" Wolfe replied, as he mentally told his last remaining duplicate to ask Nicolai to work closely with the resistance, and to ask Ginny to relay the message to Harry that his powers were badly needed in the defence of the innocents in the Mirror Realm. Then he had it hug Heidi and his children one last time.

He was painfully aware of the duality of it all. This ability to spend his last moments with his family was both torture and consolation at the same time. His ascension induced by the Phoenix Fire transformation had given him the power to save everyone but himself. His desire to do the right thing had proven a boon, but also his bane.

* * *

**Author's Note: **And we've finally arrived at the chapter where the full meaning of the story's title becomes evident. A special thank you to those who jumped in and reviewed the previous chapter to soothe my bruised ego.

Make the best of the New Year, people. Peace and love to you all.

* * *

**aberdeenflyers**: The moment I made Wolfe achieve the Phoenix Fire transformation, (which, I pretty much ripped off DBZ's Super Saya-jinn transformation) I knew that it would make it very difficult to write an interesting climax.

So in case you and the other reviewers were wondering whether or not Wolfe would pull another Harry Potter, the answer is no. He's no longer protected from the Killing Curse. Defeating Yamato will be up to Harry & Co.

**StarWest45**: Nope, Wolfe's taunting wasn't inspired by Han Solo. It was another Corellian. And no, I have not read the Rhapsody books, so the resemblance is coincidental.

**potterscientist817**: Writing a literary analysis in itself isn't that hard. The hard part is figuring out how to put whatever information you gather on the subject in your own words, so as not to reveal that you copied most of it. ;-)

**Tigrin-Phoenix**: Actually, they already have some type of magical rapid-fire cannon on the Cruisers. They've seen action in Mind War.

**theoneandnly**: Maybe you meant to write theoneand**o**nly, but I couldn't be sure so I copied what you had letter for letter. Anyway, thanks for reviewing.

**blah29**: The sad ending is coming.

**Harrypotterfan777777**: The branding enables one to wear the special armour, but it doesn't mean that one has to fulfil active duty as a guard. So Ginny won't be separated from Harry.

**lluvatar**: Thanks. I'm rather proud of it myself.

**Miss Stephanie D.**: My sentiments regarding your review have already been expressed in an e-mail. ;-)

**roastpuff**: Much appreciated.

**hootild**: I don't plan on making Hiro a very prominent character.

**Gogirl**: Actually, Wolfe holding back the Woroghs was inspired by a New Jedi Order Star Wars novel. -**disclaimer **of sorts.

**maaike-fluffy**: Het is inderdaad een snel hoofdstuk, ondanks de relatieve lengte.

**Lipton**: Ah, so you read the NJO novel Traitor, eh? Yep. Good call.

**Fragarach**: It reminded you of Kill Bill I? That's high praise.

**Elric Magus**: I'm glad it met your expectations.

**Saint Mike**: That's a good thing.

**Phoenix****, Lord of Chaos**: You can thank my betas for that.

**Lyambren**: Really? You have a story posted somewhere?


	24. Broken Link

Chapter 24

**Broken Link**

Rolf, Maaike, and Ron sat on opposing bunk beds in the sleeping quarters with the chess set resting on a conjured table, since they weren't needed either outside or on the bridge. Cirilo Roverano and Rachel Esklove were working outside under the watchful eyes of Harry and Benjamin Paradou while trying to pull some of the residual magical imprint left by the Portkey from its arrival point The piloting and monitoring duties had been taken over by Farouk, ben-Hamoud, Gaitan, and Goumas. They weren't as adept as the pair of Artificer Rangers, but their rudimentary training was good enough to do the job between the four of them.

"You know, there's something odd about The Confessor," Rolf said, while he prodded another pawn forward in a sacrificial move. Every move a pawn made theoretically created a weakness in one's defence, but to Ron's chagrin he had to take the white pawn with one of his own to prevent the pawn from advancing into a more dangerous position. This doubled up his black pawns in a terrible spot and left Rolf with a myriad of tactics to use against him.

They had been playing for nearly two hours, and Rolf was without a doubt one of the better opponents he had ever faced. Ron had won the first match in thirty-one moves, with Rolf winning the third in thirty-six and the second match having been a drawn out battle that ended in a draw. Rolf had completely surprised him in the third match by trading queens early and pushing on with a slow march of the remaining forces, and Ron found himself without a queen again in this match, which made him realise how dependant he was on having a queen in his game. He liked to play aggressively and dynamically, which was much easier with a queen among his ranks.

"What's so odd about him?"

"If he's really good, why is there no record of him ever helping the Order of Illumination?"

Maaike nodded. "I've been wondering about that myself."

"There's no way to be sure, but I have a theory," Ron began. "Donovan Ironheart and Lei Li only imprisoned Hannibal Skaras for a couple of decades. Who—other than the Confessor—could have been keeping him in check before that? Just because he didn't coordinate his actions with the Order after its inception doesn't mean that he simply sat by and watched the evil vampires run amok."

"Any idea how old he is?" Maaike asked.

"Again, I can only guess. Based on the descriptions in the earliest records about him, I'd have to say at least a thousand, but probably older."

He was about to add another five hundred years to The Confessor's estimated age along with several reasons why he thoughts this was the case, when Rachel Esklove darkened the doorway. "Hey, what are you three doing here? Lazing around while the rest of us work our butts off!"

"_You're_ the one who told us to stay inside," Maaike pointed out, beating Ron to the answer he would have given.

Rolf gestured to the chess board. "We—and by we I mean Ron and I—were playing chess."

Maaike looked offended at her exclusion. "Hey, I was helping you!"

"More like helping _Ron_ by blowing in my ear and distracting me."

"You know, you two might as well set a date. You're already giving me and Hermione a run for our money," Ron interjected jovially, taking the momentum out of their imminent bout of bickering. Then he turned to Rachel. "Any news?"

"I've pulled the Portkey's signature from its arrival point and took the liberty of sending it to Citadel's Command and Control with the instruction to have the Orbital Eyes watch out for the appearance of another such signature."

"Did you find out what kind of wand was involved in making that Portkey?"

"Cirilo's working on that. He'll be able to tell you more in half an hour or so."

Ron nodded as he rose from the bunk "All right then, since our business here is done, we might as well go to London."

"What about our game?" Rolf asked.

"Twist the Wyvern statuette on your left before you clear the board. The next time you twist it back, the pieces will climb on the board and arrange themselves exactly as they are now."

"Nifty feature."

"Ginny added it," Ron said proudly, before following Rachel to the bridge.

They reached the now vacated bridge and Rachel leapt into the pilot's seat, put on her headset and began manipulating the controls with a sureness that only the Artificer Rangers possessed. She brought the ship out of its stationary hover and aimed it towards London. "Portkey mode or the old fashioned way?"

"Portkey mode seems like a waste of energy with London so close by."

"Not an issue with this new design," Rachel assured him.

Ron thought about it. They weren't supposed to meet the Ministry officials at a specified time. Then there was the fact that his eldest daughter had turned six today. The plan was to celebrate it jointly in two days, when Bill's youngest turned nine, but that didn't mean that Ron couldn't drop in. "You know, it wouldn't do us any good if we show up at the Ministry without any answers. Would you care to pop by my mum's house so I can check on my kids?"

Rachel shrugged. "Why not?"

"Do you know where it is?"

Rachel flipped a few switches on the pilot's console. "Don't worry about that. All the information was included in the databanks, in case a Ranger's family needs to be evacuated in a hurry. All I have to do is call up the database—which I just did—and ask where you live." She took off her headset and handed it to Ron. "Care to try?"

"What do I do?"

"I'm not sure what keywords were used. Your old house has a name, doesn't it?"

"Yes."

"Then it's easy. Just mention the house by name and say that you want the coordinates locked in."

Ron donned the headset. "Lock in the coordinates for The Burrow."

Rachel gestured to the mirror in front of her. An image of The Burrow was now projected in it. "There you go."

"Now what?"

"Normally the activation word is 'Transport', but a Muggle character of my favourite television show used a different word, so I altered it to I say 'Engage', but that word only works with my voice. You simply have to say—"

"I know, Rachel," Ron interrupted. "You can stop rambling now—I get it. Transport!"

The landscape on the other side of the view port blurred as the Cruiser instantly relocated itself, and moments later Ron found himself staring at The Burrow. The planned family gathering hadn't been scheduled to occur for another two days, but it seemed that his mum had badgered the family members residing in Britain to begin their visit early.

His identical twin goddaughters, Susan and Mildred, were lounging on towels beside the large pond while chatting with Hannah, whose vertically striped bathing suit didn't hide the surprising fact that she had another bun in the oven. He had known about Fleur's pregnancy and the subsequent birth of her and Bill's third son Aramis ten days ago, but he hadn't heard anything about Hannah being pregnant. He wouldn't put it past Percy to forget about informing the family, but he thought his mum would have mentioned it in one of her letters to him and Ginny.

Susie and Millie's bikini-clad forms made it all too obvious that the little girls that had clung to his legs like a pair of frustrated Crups were no more, and reminded him that his eldest was already halfway there as well. Percy's daughters Grace and Scarlett, and George's fraternal twins Cassidy and Duncan were splashing around happily in the pond. Ron spotted Raina a bit farther off, circling over the paddock with Richard by her side and Arthur and Fred keeping watch over them and giving instructions from their own broomsticks. The younger children weren't in sight, so Ron assumed that they were inside. There was also a rather large car parked in front of The Burrow. He remembered Hermione telling him that her parents had bought a new one a few months ago, and he guessed that this was probably it. They had probably seized the opportunity to visit Ron Junior, whom they had never seen before.

"Nice SUV," Rachel remarked.

"A what?"

"That's short for sports utility vehicle. It's what Muggles back home call these four-by-four off-road cars."

"Is that what they're called?"

"Yep. Whose is it?"

"Hermione's parents, probably. Drop the invisibility and take her in for a landing."

Rachel's eyebrows shot up. "You're disembarking? Are we allowed to do that?"

"There are wards in place to keep Muggles from taking too close a look at The Burrow and the grounds surrounding it," Ron answered.

"Then how did your in-laws get here?"

"Mum probably met them at the village and accompanied them here. Come on, this Cruiser design's capabilities might be a secret, but its outward appearance isn't. I won't be offering my family a tour of the ship."

"Fine, but I hope you know what you're doing…"

The Cruiser began to descend, and Ron saw that Hannah, Susie and Millie had noticed them.

"It won't take longer than twenty minutes," Ron called out Rachel, as he stepped onto the levitation circle.

"Make sure you take a communicator with you in case Cirilo gets some results early," Rachel called back.

Ron managed to nod in affirmation before descending to the lower deck, where he found Vania Goumas shooting crossbow bolts into an elongated corridor with a target set up at its end, while being evaluated by the Nestor Gaitan, Benjamin Paraded, Rashid Farouk and Tariq ben-Hamoud. Ginny had unsuccessfully tried to explain to him how Nicolai had sufficiently harmonised the many forms of magic coursing within the new Cruisers to allow temporary extra-dimensional spaces to be created. That had been something the older models hadn't been capable of, greatly limiting the time they could go without returning to base for re-supplying. It was also very handy as an indoor practice range.

After a brief search for Harry, Ron found him perched on top of a crate, with a faraway look in his eyes as if his mind were somewhere else.

"Oi, mate?"

Harry acknowledged his presence with a nod, but didn't lose the meditative gaze.

"Are you all right? Your face looks like an 'out to lunch' sign."

"It's Wolfe."

The remarkably short answer created remarkably great anxiety for Ron. "Is he in trouble?"

"He was, but he's all right now. Better than all right, actually," Harry added slowly. "He's tapped into an amazing power source. Even though he's in the Mirror Realm, it's like he's standing right beside me. That's how clearly I can sense him."

"Hopefully that means he'll be coming back soon."

Harry nodded again. "Hopefully."

"We're at The Burrow," Ron continued, breaking an awkward silence caused by Harry's unresponsiveness in his trancelike state. "Since we don't have any news for the Ministry yet, I thought I'd stop by and wish Raina a happy birthday. Do you want to come along? There's no telling how long tracking down these vampires will take, so odds are that we won't make it for Alan's birthday. We might as well let Mum know _now_."

"Good idea," Harry replied, a bit less absently that a few seconds ago.

Ron walked towards the ventral hatch. "We've landed, so we can disembark the normal way. By the way, have you got a communicator on you? I need to stay in contact in case something turns up. "

Harry nodded as he slid off his crate. Then he joined Ron on the levitation surface that would take them beneath the Cruiser. "Where's yours?"

"Too lazy to dig it out of my locker right now."

"Ah."

The hatch under the levitation surface opened with a hiss, and half a heartbeat later Harry and Ron found themselves in front of The Burrow. Ron breathed deeply and stepped off the levitation surface, which rose back up into the Cruiser noiselessly. The familiar sight and summer scents assaulted his senses, bringing back memories of his childhood, and of him and Hermione sitting by the pond fourteen years ago, almost to the day. They had been enjoying a brief moment of peace and tranquillity in dark times.

"Oh, Richard's flying," Harry said with a mixture of excitement and disappointment. "He was supposed to wait until his sixth birthday. I was going to teach him."

Arthur, Fred, Raina, and Richard must have been alerted by the others, for they hovered a few yards in front of the Burrow. Harry began to walk towards them, and Ron fell in step with him. "Since he's your and Ginny's son, I can't say I'm surprised he didn't wait."

Harry grinned ruefully. "I guess I should have seen it coming."

"Uncle Ron!" a pair of identical voices echoed across the yard, followed by a pair of identical teenagers trotting towards him. They soon covered the distance, and Ron found himself with two pairs of arms wrapped around his torso and one niece under each of. his arms.

"How is our favourite godfather?" Susie, or maybe Millie, asked.

Ron laughed. "I'm your _only_ godfather, but thanks. It's always nice to be flattered by two pretty girls."

The twins blushed profusely at his comment, though it looked different on them than on their freckly, fair-skinned cousins.

"Hey, what about me? Don't I get any hugs?" Harry asked, trying to look offended.

"Can't do that—" one twin began "—Uncle Harry!" the other finished, mimicking an eerie habit Fred and George used to have.

"You're not a blood relative," the one under his left arm said.

"Aunt Ginny might feel threatened and get jealous," the other one added cheekily. Then her grin vanished. "Seriously, good thing you're here."

"Yeah, Danny's been crying all day and Gran's growing desperate," the one under Ron's left arm continued, as she began to tug Ron towards The Burrow.

"I think I know what's wrong," Harry said.

"Really?" Ron asked.

"It happens whenever he and Sissi are separated longer than two days."

"They're really attached to each other, aren't they?"

"It's more than that. Whenever they sit side by side, their auras merge into one. Whatever their bond is, it goes much deeper than Twin Flames. I asked Janice if she could contact some of her old professors at Ogygia and ask them what can be done about it. I don't want to split them up, and if Ginny's vision comes true they'll end up married. But at some point in their lives circumstances will require them to be apart for more than forty-eight hours, and if it's at all possible to help them prepare, I want to know how," Harry explained.

"Daddy!" Raina cried out as she recognised Ron, and she dismounted from her broom before sprinting over to him.

"Incoming!" Susie and Millie chorused, and half a heartbeat later Raina slammed into Ron, rocking him back on his heels despite her modest mass.

"Oi, birthday girl! Did you get any presents or is Grandmum making you wait till Monday?"

"She'll have to wait for our presents, but your in-laws certainly didn't spare any expense," one of the twins said.

"They bought her twenty-six books," the other one continued.

Ron chuckled, realising that his in-laws had probably bought Raina a set of encyclopaedias. The next time Raina peppered him with questions he'd be able to tell her to look up some of the answers. Hermione would be thrilled with the gift.

"They said they wanted to buy me a PC, but that they didn't because they heard that it wouldn't be allowed into Nomad Island," Raina said. "What's a PC, Daddy?"

Hermione had often complained about the Concordians' complete ban on any remotely sophisticated Muggle equipment. Ron agreed with her wholeheartedly, especially since getting used to the computer-like knowledge and information repositories the Muggle-born Artificer Rangers had created a few decades ago. It made recalling relevant information very easy and saved loads of time with research. Of course, explaining what a such a device was for lay a bit beyond Ron's ability.

He resorted to the excuse he used in these situations. "Ask your mum when she gets here on Monday." Then he turned to Arthur and Fred. "So you've been teaching her how to fly. Have you?"

"She wouldn't take no for an answer, Uncle Ron." Arthur replied sheepishly.

"Yeah, she sure knows how to nag to get what she wants," Fred added.

"Gets that from Hermione, she does."

"But without Hermione's nagging, neither you nor Harry would have scored as well as you have on your OWLs and NEWTs."

Ron turned to the direction the voice had come from. "Hello, Hannah. Why didn't news about this imminent addition to the Weasley clan reach Concordia?"

Hannah smiled. "I honestly thought Percy told you lot ages ago. He _has_ been very busy pretty much this whole past year, seeing through some major reorganisations within Magical Law Enforcement as well as setting up some international parameters for better international co-operation in the field of Magical Law Enforcement. Percy and I were so immersed in work that we weren't meticulous enough with birth-control. That's how this bun ended up in the oven." She rubbed her belly affectionately. "We certainly didn't mean to play bakery."

"Really, Aunt Hannah, you needn't use euphemisms to keep the little ones in the dark," Susie said—or maybe it was Millie.

"Yeah, the little buggers already know lots about the birds and the bees. They're too smart for their own good," the other twin said.

"Don't call your younger cousins 'little buggers' Susan," Angelina's stern voice came from above them.

"She's not Susan—I am!" the indignant reply was.

"Honestly woman, you call yourself our mother?"

"Nice try, Susan, but I can tell the two of you apart."

Ron craned his neck to look up and saw Angelina's head poking out of the window of Percy's former room. "Hello, Angelina."

"My daughters look awfully cosy in under their Uncle Ron's strong arms." Angelina smirked. "Make sure to check your pockets later to see if everything's still there. Those two have been talking about getting their hands on a Ranger gadget for a while now."

"Us?" Susie and Millie said simultaneously, trying to look innocent.

"We wouldn't do that, would we, Sildred?" one twin asked indignantly.

"Of course not, Musan. I'm as appalled by this baseless accusation as you are," her twin replied in a lofty tone.

"Not to worry, Angie. I'm travelling light. Harry's the pack mule right now."

"Uncle Harry, we forgot to give you that hug you so deserve!" one of the twins began sweetly, and as one they advanced on Harry.

Harry opened his arms wide in a welcoming gesture, but instead of engulfing him in a hug the twins fell through him when they tried to lean against them.

Richard giggled. "He does that to Mummy sometimes."

"Well, that was a unique experience, wasn't it, Musan?"

"Certainly, and not nearly as unpleasant as walking through the Bloody Baron either, Sildred."

"So why are you two here?" Angelina inquired, interrupting her daughters. "Does it have something to do with Percy calling to say that he won't make it to dinner?"

"He called?" Hannah asked.

Angelina nodded gravely. "Looked stressed, too."

Hannah turned to Ron. "Is that why you're here? Did something bad happen?"

"We can't tell you the specifics, save that something _did_ happen. Nothing we can't handle," Ron said reassuringly. "It could take some time, though."

Angelina frowned. "Then shouldn't you be looking for whatever you should be looking for instead of loitering here? Not that we don't appreciate the visit…"

"Right now we only have one lead to work with. Since there's always a risk of dealing with a pompous Ministry official who thinks he'd do a better job than the Rangers, we've decided not to go to the Ministry until we have some more material to present."

"We're also here to tell Molly that we might not make it on Monday, because of this business," Harry said.

Angelina winced. "Good luck with that."

Ron knew that his mother wouldn't be pleased, though he also knew the damage could by limited if he delivered the news in a certain way. "I'm sure she'll warm up to the idea if I start out by telling her that Junior might stay at The Burrow a few more days because of it."

"It can't hurt. Hannah's Rooibos tea is just about done, so you can come in and have a cup of tea with us. I'll tell Molly you're here." Angelina turned to Harry. "And maybe you can get through to Danny. He's been moody since yesterday afternoon."

"More like _utterly miserable_," Hannah pointed out.

Harry sighed. "I'll see what I can do, but I'm afraid it won't be much."

"I'm going to fly some more, Dad," Raina said excitedly, and scampered off.

"Girls, could you go back to the pond and keep an eye on the younger kids?" Hannah asked. "I'm going to have my tea inside."

"Why? They can all swim," one of the twins said.

"Get going!" Angelina growled in a tone that allowed no backtalk, and the girls reluctantly returned to the pond.

Ron followed Harry into The Burrow, and he didn't have to wait at the kitchen table for very long before his mother-in-law came downstairs with Ron Junior dozing in her arms, followed by Mr Granger carrying Christine and his mum carrying Holly. Angelina was the last one to come down, carrying Danny.

The moment she arrived at the bottom of the stairs, Danny flew out of her arms and landed on Harry's lap. Ron had seen Harry wandlessly summon his son many times, and the little tyke had never failed to chortle with delight. Now, however, he listlessly looked up at his father with tearstained eyes. He looked a bit peaky as well, and Ron saw Harry's expression turn grave as he ran his hand through Danny's unruly black thatch.

"Well, this is a surprise. I didn't expect to see you until Monday," Molly said. "But I'm glad you're here, Harry."

Though Ron knew perfectly well why his mother mentioned Harry specifically, he couldn't help himself. "And you're not glad about me being here? I know Harry's your favourite son-in-law, but to put him before your own flesh and blood, and so openly and obviously in front of Hannah, Angelina, and my in-laws?"

The Grangers laughed, but his mum heaved an exasperated sigh. "You know very well that I'm talking about Danny. I'm really worried about him."

"I have a hunch that he'll get better once he gets back together with Sissi." Harry looked at Molly pleadingly. "Would you mind having one more child over?"

"Of course not, dear. She'll fit right in with the rest of the redheads."

"Sissi's the daughter of that woman who looks like Ginny so much, right?" Mrs Granger asked.

Ron nodded. "The resemblance used to be downright scary. Now we're all used to it."

"And what connection exactly is there between Sissi and Harry's son?"

Before either he or Harry could answer, Harry's communicator signalled that someone was trying to connect.

Harry extracted it from his pocket and thumbed a switch on its side which caused a small mirror to sprout from it. "Go ahead, Rachel. Did Cirilo isolate the material used for the wand's core?"

"No. I'm sorry to cut your visit short, but there's also _another_ lead," Rachel said, her tone suggesting that she couldn't tell them while they were in public.

"Thanks. We'll be right there," Harry replied, and pocketed the communicator again. Then he looked at Molly apologetically. "Looks like we won't be having tea with you after all."

"Oh, and Mum, you might get the chance to spoil Junior a few more days, because I don't know if Hermione and I will have time to pick the kids up on Wednesday and take them back to Concordia," Ron said, and braced himself for her reaction to his next sentence. "I'm also not sure if Harry and I will make it for the Monday get together."

"My kids might be staying longer too, since I was supposed to take the kids back because Ginny won't be able to. But with this mission we're on, I won't be able to pick them up either. I'll remember to arrange for Sissi to come here or for Danny to go back to Concordia," Harry assured Molly. "Don't worry about that."

Molly seemed a bit disappointed, but nodded understandingly.

Ron and Harry exchanged quick goodbyes with everyone before hurrying back to the Cruiser, which was already humming as the magic core sent energy surging through the ship to power the imminent takeoff. Once inside, Harry immediately used an inside communicator to reach Rachel. Her face appeared in the small mirror.

"We're in. What happened?"

"Citadel Command and Control picked up another stealth Portkey signature in the United States, in Chicago. It isn't identical to the one we extracted from Crawley, but C&C believes the lead is worth following because the Portkey's creator probably has more than one stolen wand at his disposal," Rachel said.

Ron concurred with that assessment. Stealthy Portkeys were rare enough, so the idea that this was the same group using one wasn't farfetched.

"We can also cross-reference that signature with this one," Rachel continued. "Even a partial match will increase the likelihood that both Portkeys were created by the same individual to fifty-fifty, which is better than the hunch based on circumstance that we have right now."

And Ron knew it would also tell them that the vampires probably only had one supplier, which would end up making the hunt easier. Even Ranger Portkeys that could be used multiple times eventually needed to be recharged, and with no wizard-magic at their disposal, the vampires would be forced to go back to their supplier at some point.

"Harry, are you okay?" Rachel's worried tone broke Ron out of his reverie, and he too noticed that Harry had gone deathly pale and was sliding down against the wall, gasping for breath as he clutched his chest.

Ron kneeled down next to Harry and grabbed him by the shoulders to keep him from curling into a foetal ball. "Harry, what's wrong? Vania, get down here, something's wrong with Harry!"

Harry didn't answer immediately, but the fact that he wasn't losing consciousness was slightly comforting. Tears were forming in his eyes, which frightened Ron even more, since Ginny often talked about a connection that allowed her and Harry to feel each other.

"What is it, mate? Did something happen to Ginny?"

"Wolfe…" Harry began to sob, and there was nothing for Ron to do but wait for him to get a hold of himself.

Vania Goumas suddenly appeared by their side and gently nudged Ron aside to make room for herself. She kneeled in front of Harry and gently raised his face, revealing the tears flowing down his cheeks. "Harry, what's wrong?"

"He's gone. I can't feel him anymore," Harry said hoarsely.

"Who?" Vania asked.

"Wolfe," Ron said grimly, he himself awash in conflicting feelings of shame at the relief he had felt when upon learning that it wasn't Ginny, and the surging numbness stemming from the full impact of Harry's revelation. Harry hadn't even reacted like that to the deaths of close friends caused by Voldemort. Ron knew that the acuteness of Harry's reaction was partially due to the fact that he was in some way magically linked to Wolfe, but it was still unnerving.

"I have to go to the Mirror Realm," Harry said weakly. "I need to find out what happened."

Ron wasn't about to argue with him. He looked at the communicator. "Rachel, take us to Concordia, _now_!"

"What about the mission? Sorry, but I have to ask," she added, looking apologetic.

"We'll head back out immediately after I've discussed a few things with Faust and Kovalenko."

"If there's really thirty vampires to deal with, we'll need more help if Harry isn't with us."

"That was among the things I was going to discuss with them."

Rachel seemed satisfied with the answers and nodded. "No more questions. We're going in three … two … one …"

* * *

Ginny was having trouble coming to terms with what had happened. She remembered her relief when she heard that Wolfe had taken the Cylinder of Annihilation far away enough to spare Shamballah. Then there was the confusion when it became apparent that something was wrong, and the growing dread when Wolfe's duplicate began conveying his wishes in a manner that made it all too obvious that he didn't expect to be around for very long.

He had asked Nicolai to contact the resistance as quickly as possible to put his genius at their disposal. He had begged Ginny to allow Harry to join the war effort in the Mirror Realm, since his particular abilities of flight, invisibility, and intangibility were very well suited for a one-man pre-emptive strike that would destroy any other weapons like the Cylinder of Annihilation, and hopefully Yamato himself. At the time she hadn't understood why he had asked _her_ to _allow_ Harry to join the War in the Mirror Realm, but in hindsight his meaning became crystal clear. Even though the decision lay in Harry's hands, she was in a position to influence his decisions, and Wolfe must have known that witnessing his death would make her extremely reluctant.

He had been right. Though he had earned her eternal gratitude by sacrificing himself to save their lives—and possibly Danny's by extension, due to his connection to Sissi—the thought of Harry dying as well chilled her to the bone. There was no way of knowing whether Yamato had invented a device that could kill Harry despite his enhanced powers, and that was where the fear for his death came from.

After delivering the most urgent messages, Wolfe's duplicate had spent its final moments with his arms wrapped around Heidi and his children, including—to everyone's brief delight—Westley. Then it vanished, leaving Heidi behind in a stunned disbelief that still persisted. She refused to believe that the Cylinder of Annihilation could have killed him, and was hysterically screaming at Nicolai to send out search parties. The tiny part of Ginny's that had shared that hope promptly disappeared when her connection to Harry alerted her to his proximity and the utter turmoil his mind was in. He must have felt Wolfe die and that he badly needed her comfort, so she made to leave, risking a glance at the children before doing so.

Westley and Sissi didn't understand what had happened, though Heidi's obvious distress made them anxious as well. Henry was doing his best to calm his younger brother and sister while trying to remain calm himself at the same time. Robert looked withdrawn as he rested his head on top of Rachel's, absently stroking the wavy blonde hair that cascaded down her back as the two held each other in an embrace, seeking mutual reassurance. Rachel's eyes unmistakably reflected fear for Robert's well-being if Wolfe didn't return.

Ginny tore her eyes away from the children and slipped out of the room, concentrating on Harry's essence in order to find him and briefly regretting that method after nearly being immersed by a flood of anguish. Still, she persevered and continued to track Harry, finally finding him in a private room in the company of Jasmine, who was pale with shock. No one had left the room after Wolfe had disappeared, so many people were blissfully unaware of how close to death they had been, and what Wolfe had done to save them. Hermione was still in the dark about things as well.

Harry wasn't crying at the moment, though his face revealed that he _had _shed tears, and could start doing so again at any moment. He noticed her standing in the doorway and rushed towards her, pulling her into a tight hug. The ache caused by the anguish emanating from Harry's heart rendered any discomfort Ginny felt from the physical constriction of his embrace irrelevant, and she patiently allowed Harry to draw strength from her presence.

"You felt him go, didn't you?" Ginny whispered.

He didn't verbally reply, but she felt his head nod.

"Jasmine told me he was here."

It was Ginny turn to nod, and in hushed tones she proceeded to tell Harry how Wolfe had arrived shortly after he and Ron left for Concordia, and what had happened afterwards.

"So he fought a first wave of attackers before revealing himself to Hermione, right?"

"Yes. Why?"

"I felt him, but I thought he was much farther away." Harry sighed. "If I'd known that he was in Shamballah, I'd have … I could have—"

"It wouldn't have made any difference," Ginny said in a stern tone that still managed to retain some gentleness. Then she got a flash of inspiration. "Maybe we'd be even worse off. With you fighting by his side, he wouldn't have needed to push himself hard enough to achieve the Phoenix Fire transformation. And if he hadn't been a super sorcerer, he wouldn't have been able to fly the Cylinder of Annihilation out of Shamballah. Neither of you would have been powerful enough."

"It's hard to argue with that logic," Harry said morosely.

"I know that my saying this doesn't make you feel any better, but deep down… you know it had to be like this."

Again, there was no verbal reply, but Ginny could discern another nodding movement.

She took a moment to bask in the relief of accomplishing that particular mission. Then she began to wonder how she ought to tell him about Wolfe's final wishes.

Harry pulled away and smiled ruefully. "I guess Wolfe did you one more favour from beyond the grave. I'd better go talk to Nicolai, then."

Ginny returned his rueful smile with one of her own. Harry and Wolfe's forced division upon the destruction of Korumu's Stone had prompted the mutual copying of Wolfe's Mind Reading and Harry's Parseltongue. Even after nearly a decade of living with Harry as a Mind Reader, Ginny still occasionally forgot that he was able to read her mind.

Then, after an unspoken exchange stemming not from Mind Reading gift but the knowledge of the other's expression, they both reluctantly turned to Jasmine to confirm her fears. And knowing that they would still have to inform Heidi and her children made Ginny feel queasy.

* * *

**PLEASE READ**

First of all, I would like to thank you all for responding to my pleas for feedback.

Secondly, I would like to take this opportunity to kindly as you all to read and **_review_** a fic authored by **RobBonner22**. Despite my philosophical differences with the author about Harry's anger issues, I think the story has potential. It has undergone changes since the review I left, so don't let it taint your judgement. If 'Angry Harry' is your cup of tea, this might be the story for you. With the amount of work the author puts into it, it certainly deserves more attention than it has been getting.

* * *

**Lady of Masbolle**: The first one to review. Usually Gogirl has that dubious honour.

**Gogirl**: Yeah, go Gudrun. Before writing that chapter I'd been getting the feeling that Gudrun was becoming a domesticated nymphomaniac instead of a wildcat nymphomaniac, so I felt I had to show you guys that the chick with the piercings and the dyed hair was still there.

**H.Sanders**: Thank you for dropping a review again.

**Phoenix****, Lord of Chaos**: Doesn't matter. The pat on the back is greatly appreciated.

**oliverwood**: Slaps forehead Darkwing Duck! Thanks for reminding the name of the show. As for hiding the references, I'm afraid not. I'm not trying to be clever and hide them. I _want_ them to be painfully obvious.

**Kristus Vesanus**: Ah, the good old bi-dimensional days. I think many of my readers haven't even seen the first Mario Bros game.

**hootild**: Oh no, the bane _did_ also refer to the whole situation with Wolfe's descent into darkness. But his bane also lay in doing the right thing, see? And then of course there is the fact that Galatea's killer's surname was Aconit, which is French for monkshood and wolfsbane.

**RinnaMarie**: It _was_ a rather nasty place for a cliffie, eh?

**Lyambren**: I don't think you finished your review.

**Torifire 126**: Wolfe's relationship to Galatea was more of a karmic one. When they met she was needed in his life to heal him. If circumstances had been different, (both in his life and hers) they wouldn't have married. Heidi was simply more compatible with a healed Wolfe.

And I don't pair _everyone_ off. Though it isn't evident on screen, the majority of Rangers aren't married.

**lluvatar**: Too bad Wolfe didn't have any handy and didn't have enough time to look for some. Not that he would found any, since umbranium is generally reserved for weapons or barriers.

**Elric Magus**: Points to answer left for Gogirl.

**Fragarach**: It was a good way to go.

**Lipton**: And proud of it.

**Saint Mike**: :-)

**bane**: I know what I did in the past, but this is the present. Wolfe's already met his miraculous recovery quota for this fic, (surviving the Killing Cure, being saved by Holly, and saving his own arse by going Super Saya-jinn etc. so that's it.

**ObsessedWithSnuffles**: I wouldn't let the story end like _that_. I think there will be thirty chapters in all.

**DADAGinny**: You reviewed my fic!!!! Weeps with joy. I seem you recall you doing it before, a long time ago.

**Nightcrawler1089**: Thy concerns have been noted. (Not that thou were the first one to voice them) Thanks for voicing them anyway, though. ;-) Redundancy in feedback is a good thing.

**Dimensional Analysis**: Thank you very much.


	25. Objects in Motion

Chapter 25

**Objects in Motion**

Faust hadn't wanted to take any foolish chances now that the Order of Illumination had the luxury of numbers, which was why the _Draco _now found itself in formation over Chicago with the _Centaurus _and the earlier Wind Class Cruiser _Hurricane_. The three ships carried twenty Combat Rangers between them. The commander had deemed it safe to temporarily divert both ships away from their patrols, due to the warning signals Citadel Command and Control received while Ron, Gaitan and Farouk had been discussing the situation with him.

Before the great vampire extermination, the sewer systems under Chicago—like all major cities with extensive sewer tunnels—had been among the more popular sites for vampires to gather, since it allowed them to move from place to place during daytime. That was why the Order of Illumination had taken great pains to secretly seed the network with detectors that spotted magical traffic in the sewers. Some Rangers had deemed it more appropriate to divert the Order's resources elsewhere, since most vampires had been wiped out, but Ironheart—who had still been in command at the time—turned out to be right after all. The detectors had registered nineteen undead signals in the company of one live human. It might have been the Auror, but Ron couldn't be sure. Perhaps it was a local wizard ally of theirs.

He could imagine several reasons why they had let the Auror live and dragged him with them to another continent. That they wanted a snack was a given. As for their reason to drag him to America, there was more space to hide a body and less chance of identification if the body _was_ discovered. It was also common knowledge that the country's Magical Law Enforcement was reluctant to let outsiders into their jurisdiction, which was also in the vampires' advantage, given their newfound mobility.

Ron was thankful for this lucky turn of events, though the fact that Madam Isabelle had sensed at least twenty-five vampires meant that a minimum of six of them were still unaccounted for. He also appreciated Cirilo Roverano's quick analysis of the wand signature, thus pinpointing where it was made and likely stolen. The wand's core was a tail-hair of a magical fox-like creature from the Orient called a Kitsune, and the wood had come from a ginko tree, which was native to China.

Still, Ron didn't allow himself to relax. He wasn't ready to assume that the illegal Portkey maker operated in Asia, since it was possible that he or she took great pains to use wands stolen on the other side of the world, in order to throw off possible investigators. This wasn't likely, since supposedly no one knew that the Order of Illumination could track even the stealthy low-signature Portkeys, but his mind was trained to expect the unexpected and entertain unlikely scenarios. There _could_ be a new magical artificer with Yamato's talent out there, remote as that chance was. However, the knowledge that the wand was made in Asia still offered perspective, since one of the Order's informants residing in China was in the business of trafficking stolen wands, among other things. He was under instructions to record all the stolen goods he bought and sold as well as the times and places of the purchases and sales, and if possible, the identities or at least general descriptions of the buyers and sellers. Yes, perhaps Wormtail would be of some use again.

"Ron?" he heard Rachel Esklove's voice call, and he glanced at the co-pilots' chair. "The team leaders of the _Centaurus _and _Hurricane _want to know if the Intel officer in charge has a plan."

"All right. Patch them through to my console," Ron said, and a moment later the mirror that had been showing data on the vampire' movements filled with the image of Caleb Mordecai and Patience Gedeon's heads side by side. Glancing at a secondary display, he saw that they were already in contact with each other. "Are you two getting the information from the detectors in the tunnels?"

Both heads nodded.

"All right, here's the plan. I know it would be easier to wait until the vampires reach their destination, but for all we know there's another Portkey waiting there to take them to a country where it's night. After all, we know that this particular group doesn't stay put very long. So I want to ambush them in a sewer tunnel where they have nowhere to run."

Mordecai frowned, and Ron read the reluctance in his expression. "Chasing them through the sewers won't be easy."

"I know, and I don't plan to chase them. We can deploy the trio of Sentinel Globes each Cruiser carries and use them to map out the tunnels. Then we use their information to pinpoint the co-ordinates of the best ambush spot and Portkey right into the tunnels, catching them between manholes."

"Not that they could use those to escape, since it's a sunny summer day," Patience pointed out gleefully.

Ron allowed himself a smile. "True. So, do you agree with the plan so far?"

"Looks good," Mordecai said.

Patience nodded. "It is sound."

"Then we'd better deploy the Sentinel Globes before it's too late to do so. Patience, tell the _Hurricane's_ trio to place themselves a half mile north, north-east and east of the vampires. Caleb, have the _Centaurus'_ trio scout south-east, south and south-west of their position. Two of the _Draco's_ will scout west and north-west, and the remaining one will take up position directly above them. Each Sentinel Globe is to map the tunnels in its slice of the pie while keeping pace with the vampires. If our quarry keep going at their current speed, we can pick out an ambush spot about ten minutes after the Sentinel Globes reach their respective positions. I'll contact you when the time comes. Have your teams prepare their gear if they haven't done so already."

The two Rangers had nodded in acknowledgement, and then their heads faded from the mirror and were replaced by the previous data-stream.

"Sentinel Globes launched, Ron," Rachel said. She must have been listening in to his conversation with the other two Rangers attentively and anticipated the next move. "Can I sound the alert?"

Smirking indulgently, Ron nodded.

Rachel hit a communications button that led to the speakers on the lower deck. "Potter's Troubleshooters, prepare to be deployed in tight confines with low visibility. It's time for a final equipment check. Estimated time of deployment is about ten minutes from now, so be ready in five. Tactical briefing will occur shortly before deployment." She muted the transmission and turned around. "Did I forget something?"

Ron shook his head. "You pretty much covered it. And what was that about Potter's Troubleshooters?"

"That's what we call ourselves. It isn't official, but we've adopted the name when Harry became team leader."

"And he was all right with it?"

"Not at first," Rachel replied, confirming Ron's suspicions. "But he came to accept it."

Suddenly, Cirilo Roverano's face appeared on the mirror screen in front of Ron. "Good news, Ron. Citadel C&C ran the analysis of the signature imprint left at Crawley with the signature the Orbital Eyes picked up in Chicago. We have a partial match that's enough to narrow the list of possible Portkey makers down to one. It _is_ theoretically possible that there's a new kid on the block and that we've got the wrong person, but the odds of that being the case are astronomically slim."

"Why are you using the com system?" Ron asked exasperatedly. "I'm less than twenty paces away from the laboratory cell."

"I'm supervising a brew. Now, do you want to hear this, or not?"

Ron relented. "Who is it?"

"That's the weirdest thing. She's supposed to be dead! Ling Woo, also known as Vicious Ling, was reported dead some twenty years ago. She's Yamato's contemporary, and there are some unconfirmed rumours that the two of them were romantically involved in the late nineteen fifties. But she was almost certainly a professional partner. Oh, and she also former Captain Yee's half-sister. Artificing talent's in her blood."

"Does Janos Gaal know her?"

"C&C is trying to contact him right now to ask him that."

Ron pondered this new information. Given Yamato's contempt for inferior minds, this witch must have been very talented for him to form even a temporary alliance with her. He returned his gaze to the mirror screen. "So she's exceptionally talented, and her location is unknown. Bad combination."

"Regarding the latter, C&C recommends taking the vampires alive if possible. They might yield some information."

"I doubt it. My gut tells me that she's very protective of her hideout. But I reckon C&C thinks we might get lucky. I think we're going to have to make our own luck."

"I agree with you there, amigo."

Ron nodded. "Thanks for the update, and whatever you're brewing had better be finished in five minutes, because Rachel is going to need your help."

Cirilo glanced away for a moment. "No worries. It's nearly done. I'll be right there." His face faded from the screen just as Vania Goumas appeared by Ron's side.

"Hey Ron, will I be needed down in the tunnels?"

It was a good question. He had decided to keep both artificers on every Cruiser, but he hadn't thought about the healers. Even eight Combat Rangers were more than a match for nineteen young vampires, and Ron had twenty Combat Rangers at his disposal. The odds of anyone getting hurt were very slim.

"I need to talk this over with Mordecai and Gedeon. Rachel, put me through, please."

"Done," Rachel said a few seconds later, and the faces of Caleb Mordecai and Patience Gedeon each filled one-half of the mirror once more.

"Problems?" Mordecai asked.

Ron shook his head. "Just a question. Who are your healers, and what is their fighting and healing proficiency level? I'd like to keep one of them on a Cruiser, just in case there are injuries that require more attention than can be given on the spot. The problem is that I don't know which criteria to wield. Do I send the best fighters down so the Combat Rangers don't have to worry about babysitting, or do I send the best healers in case anyone gets hurt? I'm inclined to choose the former, since vampires always go for the weakest in a herd and the healers are statistically likely to be injured first."

Patience Gedeon nodded briskly. "I agree."

"That makes three of us. Anyway, you know how good Evgenia is in a fight," Mordecai said, a broad grin lighting up his features. He was obviously referring to Ron's sound defeat at the hands of Evgenia, some two weeks ago. Still, Ron wasn't really embarrassed, since Evgenia Ivanova had been with the Order since before the dangerous days of Voldemort's second rise to power. Ron didn't know whether it was experience, talent, or a combination of both, but her proficiency rating was right up there with those of the Combat Rangers. In fact, it had become somewhat of a tradition among the Martial Division's new recruits to beat her mark as quickly as possible.

"Imelda Hauri is our healer," Gedeon said. "She nearly wasn't asked to join the Order because of her poor fighting skills. She has improved over the years, but most other Rangers are still better than she is."

"Imelda's a really good healer, Ron," Vania interjected. "I have five years of experience on her, but she's already better than I am. I think only Evgenia, Hermione, and the officers are better. If any of us is to stay behind to treat critical injuries, it should be her."

"You heard _our_ healer's opinion on the matter," Ron said. "I agree."

"I will tell Imelda that she won't be coming with us," Gedeon said.

"Tell her to prepare to treat wounds commonly inflicted by vampires and set up her sickbay accordingly," Vania said quickly.

"Ditto for field surgery supplies, I assume?" Mordecai asked.

Vania blushed and nodded. "Right. Evgenia and I need to be prepared as well."

Ron fixed her with an urgent stare. "You'd better hurry, then."

Vania didn't even answer, going straight to the levitation surface that took her to the lower deck.

"You know, it wouldn't be a bad idea if some of us carried Curse Capsules infused with the Gremlin Hex," Mordecai suggested. "Remember how some vampires used firearms, before the great vampire purge?"

Ron grimaced. "All too well."

Mordecai continued. "And since we're dealing with young vampires—"

"The odds that they're packing heat is considerably larger," Ron finished, using a Muggle expression he had learned from Ethan Johnson, a Muggle-born Intelligence Field Operations' Ranger from the United States. "Rachel!"

"Heard it, boss-man!" Rachel called back, and immediately flicked a switch on her console. "Attention Wiz-Mart shoppers! Blue Light Special on Curse Capsules loaded with the Gremlin Hex. Your quarry might be bearing firearms, so we want the moving parts in those guns to jam up."

"I'll inform my team, too," Mordecai said.

"And I mine," Patience added.

"All right. Go grab your gear and Portkeys, and stand by for the final mission details."

"Wait, there's something they can do _now_!" Rachel said a fraction of a second before Ron's finger hit the transmission termination button.

"We're still here," Mordecai said. "Talk to us, Imma."

Ron didn't know what the word meant, but Rachel emitted an annoyed snort before answering. "Have your artificers set up a link between the communications' equipment and the Sentinel Globes. That'll allow the Rangers' personal communicators to function as name tags. There may only be one live body down there with the vampires, but a way to differentiate it from the Rangers wouldn't be a bad idea, right? And it'll also put a name to every Ranger dot on the mirror screen. It would make it easier to issue orders if some of the vampires manage to slip through our fingers."

It made sense. After all, the Rangers were going to have to deploy almost immediately after Ron picked out an ambush site. Despite their thorough training, it was possible that one or more of the vampires would slip by them. Ron gave Rachel an appreciative nod. "That's a great idea."

"I'm sure your sister will love to hear to hear that. She's the one who came up with it."

Patience Gedeon frowned. "I thought our identities would be immediately evident."

"We usually use Orbital Eyes or the Cruisers' own detectors. _Now_ we'll be monitoring the action through Sentinel Globes, which weren't designed to automatically differentiate between the Rangers' aural signatures and rebroadcast their identities. We're working on a newer model that can, but it isn't available yet. On the other hand, the Cruisers' communications equipment _was_ enchanted to flag any activated personal communicator by the name and number of its bearer. So by making the Sentinel Globes partial extensions of the three Cruisers' communications equipment and having them look for magical communication emissions, we achieve the same effect as if we'd be using telemetry from an Orbital Eye."

"Why can't we use the Orbital Eyes in this case?" Mordecai asked. "Actually, I already know the answer, but my crew is listening in too and I thought I'd be the shill in the audience."

Ron smirked. "Good to see that you're developing skills you can use in civilian life. I chose the Sentinel Globes because using an Orbital Eye to map underground tunnels is terribly inefficient. It can do so, but at the expense of its vigil over its designated area. If the vampires were to use a Portkey to transport themselves to a different location that still lay within the Orbital Eye's domain while it was busy mapping out the sewer tunnels, finding them again would be a lot more difficult."

"Another question, Ron. Where will _you_ be?"

Ron's smirk was replaced by a frown. "In the tunnels with the rest of you. I'm not afraid to get my hands dirty, you know."

"I wasn't implying that. Actually, _I_ was going to suggest that it would be better for you to stay in the Cruiser to monitor our movements and give tactical advice. Aceng told me you're very good at that."

"A portable mirror terminal receiving telemetry from the Cruisers and the Sentinel Globes will give me the same tactical overview and still allow me to be in the tunnels with the rest of you," Ron countered. "Trust me, being one of the pieces on the chessboard doesn't hamper my performance."

Mordecai nodded. "Very well. You've put my worries to rest, so I'll go along with it."

"I have no objections either," Patience said.

"Excellent. Then I'll sign off until the briefing." Ron terminated the communication, swivelled his seat around to face the door to the small laboratory and bellowed out. "Cirilo, get out here now! I don't care if your brew isn't finished yet."

"Thirty more seconds to clean up. Sheesh!" Cirilo yelled back.

Satisfied that Cirilo would return before it was time for the rest of them to deploy, Ron turned his attention back to the growing image of underground tunnels. Steadily, the blank spot in front of the vampire group shrank. Soon they'd cross into a space the Sentinel Globes had already mapped out, at which point Ron would choose an ambush site.

"What was the emergency?" Cirilo's voice sounded behind him.

Ron swivelled around and quickly relayed Rachel's plan about linking the Sentinel Globes with the Cruiser's communications equipment in order to identify individual Rangers by their communicators, and asked him to make sure that the link remained intact while keeping an eye on the tactical situation.

Cirilo scratched the back of his head. "You'd better let me pilot the Cruiser and let Rachel take care of the link. I theoretically know how to do it, but I never had the chance to actually do so, which makes Rachel more qualified to intervene if the link were to fail for some reason. She also has better tactical insight than I do."

Rachel laughed. "Such praise! My boyfriend would get jealous if he were here."

"Heaven forbid. The last thing I want is for He Who Must Not Be Named to think that I'm trying to seduce you."

"Won't these Voldemort jokes at my boyfriend's expense ever get old?"

"Not in the foreseeable future."

"I wager your grandkids will ask what the joke's about," Ron added mischievously.

"_If_ I end up marrying him," Rachel said pointedly.

"Why? Is there trouble in paradise?"

"You're a worse gossip than your sister is, Ron."

"It's merely healthy curiosity," Ron countered, re-using the defence he had employed when Hermione had accused him of the same thing.

"Use it to monitor the vampires," Rachel grumbled, and knowing that he couldn't let his attention wander at the stage, Ron heeded her advice and turned his attention back to the mirror screen. The vampires were only minutes away from crossing into the mapped area.

He tensely kept his gaze glued to the mirror as the vampires moved closer and closer to the critical boundary. Once they crossed it, he'd have to pick a spot as close as possible to their current position. The sewer tunnels branched off and intersected with other main tunnels from time to time, so placing his people too far was likely to cause problems. While redeploying with the help of Portkeys was fairly simple, the miniature Portkeys held enough magic for only three uses. One would be expended going in, and another one going out, leaving only one extra charge. He didn't want to use that unless it was to cut off possible escapees or to close the trap completely by sending in a team behind the vampire group.

Seconds ticked by and turned into minutes, and just when the vampires were about to cross the boundary, they stopped moving forward and began to walk in circles.

Ron struggled to mask his frustration. "What in the bloody blazes of hell is going on?"

Rachel's voice brought the explanation to his attention. "They're going up. They're going into a building directly above the tunnel." An image of the outside of the building appeared on Ron's mirror screen. "I guess they're using a circular staircase."

An assault in a building complicated matters. With rooms to dart into or furniture to hide behind, Ron knew he could no longer use the turkey-shoot-like setup he'd been planning to use in the tunnels. The matters had just become more complicated. "Rachel, I want a complete scan of that building."

"A top to bottom scan will take time."

"More than the sewer tunnels?"

"Relatively, yes. That's the Ptolemy Palace hotel. It has five floors." Rachel shot him a wicked smirk. "I thought you'd recognise the logo immediately, in light of some past events."

Ron felt his face, ears, and neck heat up as he belatedly recognised the gilded logo on the building. The Chicago Ptolemy Palace was the smallest of three exclusive wizarding hotels where the richest wizards from around the world stayed when visiting the United States. Not too long ago, posing as husband and wife, he and Rachel's sister Sarah had stayed at the establishment in New York in an undercover operation geared towards unravelling an organisation that had been producing a very potent lust potion. Unfortunately for both Rangers, the organisation's leaders had decided to test a new variant of the potion on some random guests the very same day that Ron and Sarah Esklove had arrived, so there was no way they could have been forewarned. Both of them ingested the potion via the complementary chocolates.

Fortunately, Hermione's skills as a magical healer had allowed her to verify for herself that it would have taken inhuman self-restraint to resist the effects of the potion, so she quickly forgave him for his slip up. The fact that he had saved some of the chocolates, allowing her to experience the passion for herself in the privacy of their marital bed, had also probably contributed to his being forgiven so easily. In fact, she had told him that it had greatly relieved the post-partum depression she had been suffering from. Even so, the adventure had still spawned some negative consequences. They would probably laugh about it in a few years, but for now he felt awkward around Sarah, and he had a distinct impression that the feeling was mutual. It was really a shame, since he and Sarah had been a very good team before the potion had forced the irresistible foreign passion onto them.

Ron chose not to dignify Rachel's remark with an answer. Instead he proceeded with the task at hand and re-established the connection with the other two Cruisers. It was easy, since Rachel had left the connection on standby. Patience Gedeon's face was impassive, but Caleb Mordecai was clearly disgruntled.

"It looks like the vampires abandoned the sewers," the Israeli Ranger grumbled.

"Unless they Portkey out of the building, we still have a good chance of finishing this today," Ron said. "Patience, have your artificer pull the Sentinel Globe covering the north-east and redeploy it to map out the building's top floor. Caleb, reposition your Globes covering the south-east and south-west to map out the fourth and third floors. Our Globe covering the north-west will take care of the lobby and the first floor and the one following the vampires will continue to do so."

"It would be easier if control of their Sentinel Globes were transferred to us," Rachel said.

Mordecai and Patience must have heard her, because both of them briefly turned away relay the request to the unseen artificers on the other ships.

"Control is being transferred to you," Patience said.

"Our Globes are yours," Mordecai added.

"I've got them," Rachel confirmed. "The remaining four Sentinel Globes on the main points of the compass aren't enough to cover the area around us, though. We'll have to shrink the perimeter."

Ron nodded. "Do what you have to." Then he turned back to the mirror screen. "If it were up to me, I'd wait for the vampires to conclude whatever business they might have in the hotel. Of course there's a chance that the hotel is the final destination for now. With an underground tunnel leading up to the building, it isn't too farfetched to assume that it's a safe-house of sorts."

"It probably is," Rachel's voice interjected again. And Ron swivelled his chair around to face her.

"How so?"

"Well, you know who the Ptolemy Palace hotels belong to, right?"

Ron nodded. In preparation for the lust potion mission, he had taken it upon himself to discover as much as possible about the owners and the clientele of the hotels. "Gregory Donaldson. But we can't be sure that he has anything to do with it. He didn't know anything about the potion ring either."

Rachel shook her head. "Donaldson was a major contributor to the campaign fund for the current Minister for Magic in the United States. He might not be into anything _really_ illegal, but to allow some of his guests to indulge some of their more questionable wants and needs, the local magical government has to turn a blind eye to some of the goings on in the hotel. The lust potion people capitalised on that, and these vampires might be doing the same."

Something clicked in Ron's mind. "They can't be working alone. They'd need a middleman. They couldn't have pulled this off without the help of some wizard allies. Most people are too wary to deal with vampires directly. This whole thing goes deeper than we thought." He turned back to the two faces sharing the screen in front of him. "You can lower the alert level. Tell your people to keep their gear close by, but they needn't be wearing it all the time."

"What if the vampires leave this place with a Portkey?" Mordecai asked.

Cirilo Roverano, who must have been listening in, answered for Ron. "Citadel C&C is keeping the Orbital Eyes on the lookout for stealthy Portkeys with Vicious Ling's signature. We'd find out where they went quickly enough."

"I know you want to go after these vampires. We could probably take them, but the odds of bystanders getting hurt is too big," Ron said.

Mordecai's eyebrows rose a notch. "Martial Division Rangers have very careful aims."

"I do not doubt the Combat Rangers' abilities. I'm more worried about the reactions of a bunch of panicky vampires." He paused to gather his thoughts and pondered how to formulate his intentions. "Since Yamato left for the Mirror Realm, things have been pretty quiet. So quiet, in fact, that some government officials have yet again begun to doubt the necessity of the Order of Illumination. Some of them are just dumb, but others want more power than they wield at the moment—power that can only be acquired through not quite legal means. This hotel is packed with influential people, and we can't allow any of them to get hurt by a fleeing vampire. It'll reflect badly on us."

"Would the discovery of a hive of vampires not reinforce the importance of the Order of Illumination's presence?" Patience Gedeon asked.

"The people who want us gone will twist that news in such a way that we'll look incompetent for having missed these vampires in the purge."

"But according to Madame Isabelle, most of them have been spawned after the purge."

"They'll conveniently forget to mention that," Ron said dryly. "Until they themselves have been victimised by it, people unfortunately tend to believe things rather quickly if the information comes from a popular media source, even if it's incorrect. Also, the Order of Illumination needs to be secretive, which tends to breed distrust among everyone who isn't let in on the secret. This is a recurring problem that the Order has had to deal with ever since its conception, and there's very little that we can do about it."

"The people who want us gone are all crooks right?" Rachel said. "Why not ferret out the skeletons in their closets and hold it over their heads like blackmail material?"

Ron shot her a rueful grin. "As tempting as that solution is, and as effective as it would probably be, we'd take the first step towards becoming what our fiercest opponents claim we already are. An elitist secret organisation bent on controlling the world. It might start out well-intentioned, but it wouldn't take much for us to start using them for less noble purposes." He returned his gaze to the Rangers on the mirror screen. "Let's wait and see what the scans reveal. If the vampires are all located in a part of the hotel that doesn't easily allow access to the other parts, I'll consider an assault. Anyway, the risk to the guests isn't the only reason why I'm not willing to attack just yet. If we wait a little longer, we might find out who the vampires' wizard allies are. We could use the extra information."

Mordecai nodded. "All right. I'll tell my boys that they can return to their card game. Keep me posted." His face disappeared from the screen, and Patience Gedeon's face expanded as more room became available.

"More questions?" Ron asked.

"I was wondering if you could release my team to the tunnels now. I would like to investigate the secret entrance to the hotel and plant additional beacons while I'm at it. I was among those who planted the other beacons, and I believe we had passed under the Ptolemy Palace while doing so. I assume that the passage is secret, so I will have to take one of my artificers with me."

"Can the other one handle the Sentinel Globes still under your control at the same time as piloting the ship?"

"No, but Imelda can take over the Cruiser's operation. Like your sister, Imelda was uncertain as to whether she ought to become a healer or an artificer. She has received some training in the Artificer Division, so she is a competent pilot."

"All right, go ahead. But if you find it, don't try to open it yet. I know that artificers see opening secret doors as a challenge, so try to rein yours in. It might betray your presence."

"Understood," she said before terminating the connection.

Ron turned back to Rachel. "Thanks for reminding me of Donaldson's political financing."

Rachel grinned broadly in a way that strongly reminded him of Sarah. Even though they weren't identical multiplets, their faces strongly resembled each other in certain expressions. It made him feel uncomfortable.

"I contribute whenever I can."

"I should have thought of it," Ron said morosely. "I'm trained to do so."

Rachel waggled her eyebrows suggestively. "Maybe that wasn't the foremost Ptolemy Palace related thought on your mind."

"That's not funny, Rachel. Your sister was very lucky to be on extra-strong birth-control. I shudder to think what would've happened if I had got her pregnant."

"I'm sorry. You're right," Rachel apologised. Then she nodded to the ceiling, and Ron saw two large mirror screens sliding out of an aperture and tilt down at a slight angle. "I'm putting the building's scans on those screens. The one on the left will show where in the building the vampires are, and the one on the right will show images of the floors the Sentinel Globes are watching." She manipulated some controls on her master console, causing a panel in his console to slide open and allow a joystick to rise through it. It was smaller than the one the pilots used to steer the craft, and it had what looked like a large marble sitting on top. "You can use that joystick to control the Sentinel Globes. I'm going to explain what the buttons are for, so listen carefully."

The marble on top of the joystick turned out to be a trackball, which allowed the Sentinel Globes' controller to enlarge an image if need be by rolling it forward in its socket. Rachel also explained to him that it could be rolled from side to side and even diagonally, but that the Sentinel Globes' current task blocked out those functions. Then there were buttons that allowed him to toggle through images provided by different Globes, peel through the layers of walls and floor to see what lay beyond, and see things by the heat they exuded, or their magical auras.

Ron was about to test the functions himself, but Patience Gedeon's voice coming out of the speaker stopped him. "We have a problem."

"What is it?" Ron asked anxiously.

"There isn't a trace of a secret entrance, and with our tools we should have discovered one quickly. I see only one explanation. The entrance is part of a partial Fidelius Charm on the building."

Things were getting more complicated by the minute. "A partial Fidelius Charm like the one we've got on the Citadel of Illumination?" Ron asked, looking at Rachel in an attempt to seek clarification. The Order of Illumination's headquarters was also partially protected by the Fidelius Charm, but such partial castings of the charm were said to be extremely tricky, and very few wizards could pull it off.

"I am not an artificer," Patience's voice replied.

"I'm asking Rachel. Hold on."

"It's more difficult than a normal Fidelius Charm. I only learned to do it recently, and it was like the Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests, _squared_! It took me four attempts to get it right," Rachel said.

"Why is it harder?" Ron asked. "You'd think that hiding part of a building is easier than hiding the whole thing. I know magic and logic don't go hand in hand, but—"

"Oh no, the Fidelius itself isn't any more difficult. It's just that you need to cast a lot of complimentary Confusion and Illusion Charms so that the people who know the building from the outside never start wondering about the reduced volume on the inside. It requires a lot of painstaking research to find out how to place them without having them conflict which each other."

"How many wizards and witches would you say are capable of it?"

Rachel tucked her lower lip under her front teeth, thinking it over before answering. "Not many. It's difficult to learn it, and once you do, the odds that you'll ever use it are slim. That's why most people don't bother. The only reason_ I_ learned it is because the Order requires it."

"So the vampires are well connected."

"Apparently they are."

"Patience, plant some tracers around your current position and get back to your ship," Ron said. "There won't be a fight today. We need to map out and analyse our quarry, otherwise the roots of this will remain even after we cut down its main body."

"We don't know if it is a cohesive organisation," Patience said.

"Maybe it isn't, but that doesn't mean that we shouldn't try to catch them all, right?"

"Of course not. We shall work swiftly. Warn us if you see anyone coming down."

"Will do. _Draco _out," Ron said, and waited for the tell-tale warble from the speaker to signal that Patience had broken the connection. Then he turned to Rachel again. "If that entrance is covered by the Fidelius Charm, how come we were still able to see the vampires moving up a circular staircase?"

"I was wondering whether you'd ask that," Rachel said, grinning as she swaggered over to him and sat on the edge of his console. "That Sentinel Globe is calibrated to the detection of magical auras. You'll notice that the other Sentinel Globes have failed to produce a visual of the vampires."

Ron chided himself for forgetting about the telemetry from the Globes scanning the hotel. He _hadn't_ noticed.

Rachel must have read his expression correctly, since her grin had broadened. "Relax, Ron. I've got your back."

"All right, so how is it possible?"

"First tell me everything you know about the Fidelius Charm."

"All right." Ron took a deep breath. "It locks information into someone's soul. Those to whom the information is revealed by the secret keeper can't even talk about it to anyone else, unless of course the people in question have also been included by the secret keeper. It suppresses the senses of all living things, and … oh!"

"The Sentinel Globes aren't living things." She held up her hand to forestall the question on Ron's lips. "The reason the Sentinel Globes haven't been able to map out the area protected by the Fidelius is because it still is very powerful magic. However, at the time of the charm's creation, the creators couldn't imagine something like a Sentinel Globe. It doesn't mask the magical aura of anyone inside."

"I follow you, but there are some magical eyes capable of seeing auras. How come—"

"They've never seen the aura of someone in a building protected by the Fidelius? Because, first of all, a Sentinel Globe is much more powerful than any magical eye. I don't know of any magical eyes that can both see auras and see through obstacles, and if there were, it would be impossible to make them powerful enough to see through several layers of obstacles as thick as walls. Second, what the magical eye sees goes straight to the brain, which is part of a living thing. In the Globe's case, it goes to a mirror screen."

Ron closed his eyes massaged his temples. The conversation was giving him a headache. He had been exposed to far too many revelations in too little time, and he was quickly going to have to sort it before working out a plan to submit to his superiors.

"Oh, is widew Wonnie getting a headache from aw the difficuwt awtificew tawk?" Rachel said, though her tone was more playful than mocking.

"You lot were as fresh as daisies when you got the emergency call. I went to bed late and got up early in Shamballah, and Shamballah Time is about on par with the lower Middle East and Eastern Africa. That's three hours ahead of Nomad Island."

"Hey, I didn't expect my time off to be cancelled, so Tom and I partied all night. I haven't slept much, either," Rachel countered indignantly.

"Then why do you seem to be bursting with energy?"

"Positive energy. I meditated during our stop at the Citadel. I know a technique that might transfer some to you."

"How long will it take?"

"I guess I can limit it to two positions. It'll take six to ten minutes, but you have to be open for it to work."

"I _am_ open."

Rachel shook her head. "The mere fact that you asked me how long it would take means that you're not. You'll have to take your mind off the mission."

"Ah!" Ron knew that he was too stressed out to do that. "Then it'll have to wait. Another time."

"Sure," Rachel said brightly, before practically skipping back to her post. Ron envied her energy.

With a sigh of resignation, he began to establish a connection with the Citadel of Illumination. He needed to talk to his superiors about some additional resources in the form of Intel Division manpower.

* * *

**hootild**: No, Harry would be able to tell if Wolfe had been merely unconscious. As for the connection between Danny and Sissi, it is indeed significant, but I won't go into that in this story anymore. Since people kept reading the series despite it being A/U, I decided to add a fifth and final story to the series.

**Lady of Masbolle**: Action scenes take a lot of research and work, at least, for me. It certainly doesn't come naturally.

**Saint Mike**: I love that song.

**DADAGinny**: You reviewed again!!! The twins _are_ like their dad and Uncle, be it a tad more vicious at times. And thanks for bringing that plot bunny to my attention. evil grin

**Gogirl**: Yes, I am evil.

**StarWest45**: It was supposed to be sad, so I guess I've accomplished what I set out to do.

**Lyambren**: Writer's block sucks big time. At this point the story is also nearly done. It won't be as long as Mind War. Thirty-one chapters tops, and I've sent chapter twenty-eight to the first beta.

**Elric Magus**: That makes it hurt so much more.

**torifire126**: Wolfe's 'parting gift' was actually an earlier gift that just keeps on giving. Because Harry was a Mind Reader, Ginny was spared the need to find a way to deliver the bad news.

**Stix-the-Rebel**: The first chapter of this the next fic will have a list of kids, their parents, and their ages at that point in time.

**Fragarach**: Running out of things to say, eh?

**blah29**: This story is far from over.

**rdprice29**: Thanks for reviewing Chapter 1.

**Lipton**: Depressing thought, eh?

**AriannaRiddle**: That was the point. ;-)


	26. Sudden Developments

Chapter 26

**Sudden Developments**

"Vania?" Rolf momentarily looked away from the umpteenth chess game he and Ron had got into the last seventy-two hours. Ron followed his gaze.

Vania Goumas, who had crossed in front of the sleeping quarters' doorway on her way back to the small infirmary, turned towards them. "Yes?"

"Your eyebrows."

Said eyebrows rose. "What about them?"

"Exactly … _them_! _Plural!_ What happened to the uni-brow we all know and love?"

"Maaike, Rachel and I have been doing some mutual grooming to kill time. You know, the right makeup to soften her features does wonders for Maaike's face."

Ron smiled. Knowing that it could take awhile before they made their move, the crews aboard the three Cruisers in formation over Chicago had agreed to three sixteen-hour shifts with eight-hour overlaps, thus keeping two teams on standby while the third team slept. For the Combat Rangers and the Healer, the wait was boring, and Ron didn't begrudge the three women in his crew the opportunity to kill time in their own way. The men trained, played cards, and held impromptu tournaments to test their weapon-skills, and while the women had also participated in some activities, Ron could imagine that they wanted some variety with more feminine accents.

The wait wasn't quite as boring for Ron, since he had to keep a close eye on the incoming telemetry, swapping vigils every two hours with the other intelligence officers on duty in order to stay sharp. The intelligence officers in question were Clara da Silva and Sarah Esklove, and they had Portkeyed to the _Hurricane _and _Centaurus_ for the sole purpose of taking some of the pressure off him. Still, there had been _some_ excitement during his monitoring duties, namely, when the Sentinel Globes had been sifting through all the rooms in the Ptolemy Palace Hotel, with the purpose of inventorying all the beings in the building. One of the suites had been occupied by no one other than a kneeling Severus Snape, starkers save for a collar and leash, with his wife Megan holding the leash while lashing his behind with a riding crop.

"Ron? Your wife want to talk to you." Cirilo Roverano called from the bridge

Excusing himself from the chess game, Ron went to the now-familiar tactical console. He flipped the appropriate switches to dedicate one of the mirrors to displaying Hermione and donned a headset to keep the conversation private. He hadn't spoken to her directly since leaving Shamballah, though he _had_ spoken to Ginny, who had filled him in about some of the events.

"Talk to me, luv," he said when Hermione's upper body appeared on the mirror. She was wearing her dressing gown, and the background was their bedroom wall, telling him that she was at home. "How are things over there?"

"Since Heidi can barely look after herself right now, our children are still at The Burrow."

"Are you wishing you had taken your full maternity leave?" Ron asked, wondering if Hermione was regretting having gone back to work a month after the birth of their son. Normally a female Ranger could stay off active duty up to six months after her child was born, but Hermione had managed to convince their superiors to allow her to use the remaining five months around the time that Ron Junior would most likely be taking his first steps. Both of them had missed Raina and Christine's first steps.

"If I _had_ been on maternity leave, I'd probably have been pressed into duty anyway. Faust and Kovalenko have recalled all the Rangers on leave. You know that two additional Cruisers have been sent out to cover the routes of the_ Centaurus _and the_ Hurricane_, right?"

Ron nodded. He also knew that the _Hurricane_ would have been due back at the Citadel if its crew's mission hadn't been extended. It was almost like the days when the Order had been critically understaffed.

"I've also been pressed into some rather unusual duty," Hermione continued. "Those of us who _are_ in Concordia are to maintain the illusion that there's nothing out of the ordinary going on. I have to spend a few hours every day posing as someone else." She made a disgusted face. "The foul taste of Polyjuice Potion rises up to my throat every now and then. The things we do for the Order."

"What about Harry?"

"Still in Shamballah. I don't know the details, but Nicolai asked him to stay because he's got a plan to make sure that Yamato can't use a Cylinder of Annihilation any time soon, and Harry needs to be a part of it for the plan to work. I hope they succeed. Gudrun and I were guarding prisoners when the Cylinder of Annihilation was charging up, so we were blissfully unaware of the danger we were in. But I can't forget the look on Ginny's face, even when it was all over. It scared me plenty as well, but I suppose I was spared some of the fear by the subconscious knowledge that the danger had already passed. It can't imagine what went through her head when she thought she was going to die and leave her children behind. She's still a bit rattled. I've new appreciation for the saying 'Ignorance is bliss'."

"She seemed all right to me when I spoke to her, yesterday. She was more concerned about how Danny had suffered in his separation from Sissi."

Hermione smiled. "As any good mother would be."

Ron decided to turn tack. "So, did you see the recording we made of Snape?"

Hermione's sudden fit of giggles answered his question.

"Bizarre, wasn't it?"

After Hermione had composed herself, she shrugged. "Well, he's spent a great part of his life in dungeons, so I can't say I'm terribly surprised by his … hobby. What's more bizarre is that he was the Sub. He always struck me as a Dom."

Ron failed to place the terminology. "You've lost me."

"Dom stands for dominant, and Sub for submissive. Those are the politically correct terms the deviants who invented sadomasochism came up with when an alternative for Master and Slave was needed.. Although, what Snape and his wife were doing was comparatively tame. He didn't even have weights hanging from his nipples."

Ron frowned. "How d'you know so much about this?"

"The Harrisons, my parents' former neighbours, were into that sort of thing. It was quite a shocker when they were discovered." Hermione shook her head. "They appeared so prim and proper on the outside. He was a lawyer, and she a GP." Then she giggled. "You should have seen the look on my parents' faces when they tried to explain it to me."

"So what did you parents think of it?"

"_Whatever floats their boat_, Mum said. Some of our other neighbours weren't quite as liberal, which is why the Harrisons moved, I guess. And don't ever tell anyone else about this, but I think my mum and dad might've taken a few leaves out of their book. When I got back home after our second year at Hogwarts, I found two pairs of handcuffs and a blindfold in Mum's dresser while I was looking for a decent hairbrush."

"Are you ever going to tie _me_ up?" Ron asked in a whisper, lest he would be overheard.

"Now why would I do that? The way you use your hands is one of your best qualities. I might make you wear a blindfold, though," she added mischievously.

"Oh, you naughty girl!"

The mirror conveyed Hermione giving him a very sultry look as she peeled back her dressing gown a little. "Am I making you randy?"

"I'm getting there," Ron murmured huskily.

"You know, the Muggles have something called phone sex. Want to give it a go?"

"We'd better not. There isn't a lot of privacy around here, so you'd best keep that dressing gown on. And I don't want to have to explain my … err—"

"Tumescence?" Hermione offered.

Ron smiled sheepishly. "That's a very literary way of putting it, but yes. Are you reading your Pink Kneazle series smutty novels again?"

Hermione rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Actually, they're short stories. And how many times do I have to tell you, those were Gudrun's!"

"It's all right to admit that even a brainy lady like you enjoys reading a smutty novel every now and then," Ron said teasingly. "Besides, Gudrun doesn't strike me as the type who reads those novels. If I'm to believe Matt, their real sex life is a lot racier than anything happening in those books," he added, recalling Matt's many quasi-complaints about Gudrun's voracious sexual appetite. It was a frequent topic of conversation among Matt and his circle of male friends—after the topics of work, Quidditch, and finances had been exhausted—and it transpired with Gudrun's full knowledge, blessing, and even encouragement, according to Matt. Ron secretly looked forward to those sessions, too, since he had added some of Matt's suggestions to his own repertoire, with spectacular results.

"I never said that Gudrun _reads_ those books," Hermione said mysteriously, prompting Ron's thought process to switch to a higher gear. He realised that if Gudrun didn't read those novels, the only explanation would be that…

"She wrote them?" he whispered incredulously. "Gudrun is Venus Viridian?"

Hermione shot him a superior smirk. "The first rule about writing is to write about something that you know lots about. Gudrun certainly knows a lot about the kind of events described in smutty novels, wouldn't you say?"

Ron surmised that Gudrun was as free with her bedroom secrets among the women as Matt was with his among the men. He wondered if he could pick up some additional pointers if he read those books.

"Thinking about reading the smutty novels now?"

Ron felt his ears heat up. His better half knew him all too well. "You owe some very pleasurable moments to the fact that Gudrun gets a kick out of discussing their bedroom exploits with her friends and encourages Matt to brag about how insatiable she is, you know!"

"Now that you mention it, some of things you did on the night we conceived Ron Junior were remarkably similar to the events described in the fourth issue."

"So you _did_ read them!"

"I never said that I didn't." Hermione's smirk became more pronounced. "When you confronted me with it, you phrased it as the booklets being _mine_. I merely said that they were Gudrun's. I never said anything about whether or not I read them."

"You sneaky little witch!"

"Elementary, my dear Weasley, and we both know that's why you married me."

"And you married me for my sharp mind and ability to see past your deception, most of the time, right?"

Hermione shook her head. "Nope. I married you because you're the greatest shag in the world."

Ron raised his eyebrows. "Bit of a difficult assumption to make without means for comparison. Or do you have a confession to make?"

"Female intuition, luv."

"Well, remind me to properly thank your female intuition for the compliment when I get home."

Hermione's expression sobered. "Any idea when that'll be?"

Ron shook his head sadly. "We've seen some very important locals disappearing into the secret part of the hotel, including the current appointed United States Minister for Magic, George Shrub. Honestly, it's beyond me why he was elected. With that face of his, even a blind wizard wouldn't buy a used broomstick from him, yet they deemed him trustworthy enough to give him the job. I knew he was no good the first time I laid eyes on him, back at Laketown. Anyway, the stench of corruption seems to grow more pungent with every passing hour. Faust doesn't think that it's quite as bad as India was the year before we joined the Order, but pretty close. It'll take at least a few more weeks to expose the whole network, and we can only move once we've done so. You know, you'd better Portkey some more fresh uniforms, and I'll send my dirty ones back. And tell Mum that she might get to keep her grandchildren for the rest of summer."

"Shall I send some Pink Kneazle booklets as well?" Hermione teased.

"I don't think it's appropriate reading material for a bunch of people stuck on a Cruiser for the better part of the day, with tensions running high," Ron said slyly. "We only have two toilets that have to be shared by ten people, so don't want anyone to loiter in them while enjoying Venus Viridian's titillating works."

Hermione laughed. "Your dirty mind still surprises me sometimes."

"It's what'll happen if that smut comes aboard, though."

"And I'm sure that Gudrun would be flattered to hear that."

"So what _does_ Gudrun do with all the money she makes with the sales?" Ron asked. "I mean, they're popular in most of the English-speaking wizarding world. Even Mum's got a stash of Pink Kneazle booklets. But it's not like Gudrun needs the gold."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Your mum may be getting old, but she's not dead!"

"_Her-mi-o-neee_! There are some things blokes don't need to know about their mums."

"A better question would be where she finds the time to write. She might not go on patrol missions or do any of the drudge work anymore since she's a lieutenant, but she's got to put in more hours at the Citadel. Then there are the children…" Hermione continued, deftly evading the topic of her mother-in-law's smut booklets. "As for the proceeds, everything goes into the fund that Gudrun and Matt have started for the Exobiological Healers Institute that Nicolai is planning to set up. It'll pay for scholarships of students who can't afford the tuition."

The Exobiological Healers Institute would serve the purpose of providing training that could allow both young aspiring Healers and already fully educated and established Healers to learn about healing members of the races found in the Mirror Realm. It would be a stepping stone of sorts for Healers who wanted to practice in the Mirror Realm.

Ron chuckled. "Isn't the Lord Mayor's wife chairperson of the committee in charge of managing the fund? The same repressed old hag who went on record saying that shameless pornography like the Pink Kneazle series ought to be banned in Nomad Island?"

Hermione flashed him a devilish smile. "That's exactly why Gudrun picked her. The saucy wench always _did_ have an appetite for irony."

"No kidding."

"Wrap up the dirty talk with your wife, Weasley. Commander Faust wants to talk to you," Cirilo Roverano called.

"My mirror is flashing too, Ron," Hermione said. "Someone's calling over here as well."

Ron blew Hermione a kiss. "Goodnight, luv. Sweet dreams."

Hermione returned his kiss. "I'm sure they will be." Then she faded from the screen, only to be replaced by Commander Faust's round face adorned with bushy eyebrows and walrus-like moustache. Ron found the sudden change jarring.

"No need to look so disappointed, Mr Weasley."

"What can I do for you, Commander?"

"You need to keep a lookout for the vampires," Faust said, getting straight to the point. "Unless their hideout was stocked with blood beforehand, the vampires ought to be getting hungry by now. Our careful observation of the hotel has enabled us to discount the possibility that blood was somehow smuggled in, and we know that no blood was taken from unwitting guests."

"What if the blood was Portkeyed straight to them?"

"We'd know," Cirilo Roverano interrupted before Faust could answer. "The magic of the Fidelius Charm cancels out the stealth properties of stealthy Portkeys. An arrival would light up any local Ministry detectors like a normal Portkey would, and you can bet your freckly butt that the locals have such a detector in a hotel where wizards regularly pop in with Portkeys."

Ron mentally slapped his forehead. Cirilo's explanation had to be the reason why the vampires hadn't directly Portkeyed into the hotel. He couldn't believe he hadn't even asked himself why they hadn't done so.

Faust nodded. "It is like your artificer said. I myself actually asked the very same question you did, in order to make sure that I didn't overlook anything. I also asked whether they could somehow have smuggled in blood via normal luggage in spite of our scans. Our artificers agreed that if the enemy has somehow developed a type of Confundus Amulet powerful enough to not only baffle the Sentinel Globes but also project a false image of the luggage's interior, we deserve to be beaten."

"So the vampires might be going out to hunt soon, and you're telling me this because you want me to do something about it, right?"

"We've informed the local magical government that the Order of Illumination will be conducting some exercises within their jurisdiction, though we didn't tell them where or when. When those vampires go out to hunt, I want Combat Rangers to"—Faust's brought his hands up and placed imaginary quotation marks— "_accidentally_ stumble across the hunting party, dispatch some of them, and allow the rest to get away. The exercise requires only wands, so our people can't be seen carrying vampire slaying weapons."

"The British Ministry has been harassing you about results?"

Faust nodded.

"We obviously can't tell them what we've found, since they keep these kinds of secrets contained about as well as a sieve contains water," Ron thought out loud. He saw where Faust was going with this, though he didn't like the idea of deliberately exposing his people without all their resources. "So this operation is supposed to be orchestrated as a lucky break for us, giving us something to report, right?"

Faust gave him a sympathetic look. "I don't like the plan much either. If it makes you feel any better, it is also a means to gauge the reaction of the local Ministry officials. Your colleagues from Intelligence have been very busy planting surveillance artefacts all over the place, the clothing of most medium to high-ranking Ministry officials included. Our orchestrated clash is bound to startle some of them into releasing some valuable information."

Faust's revelation and the promise of additional information _did_ make Ron feel a bit better about things. "All right. I'll pass the news down to the rest. Will you tell the other Cruisers? Or should I?"

"I suppose they ought to hear it from me. Prepare your people."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

Ron's face was immediately replaced by the face of a young Chinese Ranger from the Medical division. Rou-wan Yap had joined the Order the year before, and had attained her formal rank barely a week ago. Being the most junior Ranger in the Medical Division, she had been charged with running the lab in the evening. Since there were no patients residing in the wards or difficult potions in the making that needed constant supervision, the division's captain and lieutenant had decided to allow her to run the graveyard shift by herself so she could gain some experience. Her almond-shaped eyes were wide with worry, causing Hermione to wonder what had happened.

"Hermione, you need to come to here right away. There has been an attack at the Umbral Gate, and your niece has been poisoned."

Knowing that Holly was at The Burrow, Hermione deduced that it had to be Rose. She and Jasmine frequently went to wait for Charlie Senior to emerge from the gate after a day's work in Shamballah. "What happened?"

"There is no time. You will be told when you get here. You are authorised to use the emergency Portkey to come straight to the medical wing. Hurry!"

Hermione bolted upstairs and hastily threw on some robes. Then she went to the cupboard where the emergency Portkey was kept, and moments later she found herself in the office assigned to the division's commanding officer. Reasoning that Rosie would have been taken to the emergency room adjacent to the potions and antidotes lab since she appeared to have been poisoned, Hermione rushed to that room and found Charlie, Jasmine, and Charlie Junior standing outside. All three looked sick with worry, and Jasmine, with red-rimmed eyes, looked to be on the verge of a breakdown.

"What—"

"A Doppelganger assassin slipped through the Umbral Gate posing as one of the regular inter-realm merchants who travel back and forth," Charlie Senior said, his eyes growing shiny with tears. "I _know_ the real bloke, too. I thought he was acting a bit strangely, not recognizing me immediately and all that. I should have known that something was up!" He slammed his fist into the wall in frustration.

"He was after Mum and me," Charlie Junior said softly. "He knew somehow that we're Mind Readers. He came to kill us so we won't be able to help with the unmasking of spies in the future. Ranger Khan tackled the assassin, but not before he got off a shot. He must've seen Ranger Khan coming, and the haste probably threw off his aim."

Hermione went numb with shock. The Doppelganger could hide its shape, but not its mind. How could it have eluded them when they'd been searching the crowd for conspirators? Assuming, of course, that it had been present at the time.

"He was, but he took the shape of a statue," Charlie Junior answered her mental question. "I helped Ranger Khan with the interrogation," he added to explain how he knew the tactic the Doppelganger had used to elude them. Then he grasped Hermione's hand. "But that's not important right now. You've got to go help Rosie. Mr Montoya's already had a look at her, but he doesn't know what to do because the poison's undetectable."

His pleas brought Hermione back to the present, and she quickly proceeded into the emergency room. Rosie's small form lay on a bed, and several kinds of antibiotic potions were being administered through intravenous drips. Montoya and Rou-wan spun around to face her.

Montoya sighed with relief. "Thank you for getting here so soon."

"How exactly was the poison administered?"

"A dart from a blow-gun," Rou-wan answered quickly.

"Do you have the dart?"

"Most of it shattered on impact, but I have a piece of its tip. I discovered it in the first examination, and I removed it." The young Chinese woman pointed to a little transparent jar on a nearby table.

"And you tested it for poison?"

Montoya nodded. "After we came up empty from testing the patient."

Hermione drew her wand and summoned the jar. It zoomed into her outstretched hand, and she immediately held it up to the light. "That doesn't look like a needle. It's a thorn. The dart was tipped with a thorn?"

She began to pace back and forth, forcing herself to think. Why would the assassin have used such a weapon? And why was this situation so hauntingly familiar? She had once heard something about assassins who used thorns to kill people, but the overall context had been different. Then, as if someone had switched the light on in her mind, it came to her.

Neville and Nicolai had told her about a bush that grew in the Mirror Realm. It had somehow adopted a virus carried by a species of lizard native to the Mirror Realm, creating a symbiotic co-existence and mutating the virus to a form so powerful that it was deadly to all but a handful of Mirror Realm creatures who appeared to have natural immunity. It was even lethal to Nundus, which were infamous for their disease-ridden breath, and it could destroy vampires, which weren't really alive anymore. There were only three known creatures immune to the virus: unicorns, phoenixes, and Dait cat-people. The Dait were the only humanoid creatures with immunity, and they were generally a peaceful race who possessed many deep moral values to use the plant's terrible trait. The people who _did_ harvest the thorns had to be very careful.

Hermione also knew someone who had been infected by the virus. It had been an accident that had been the consequence of juvenile disobedience. A little over a year ago, Nathan and Xander Kelly had crawled into a secluded barn where some specimens of the plant were being kept, and Xander had been pricked by a thorn. He'd been very sick, but the trace of Dait blood running through his veins had been enough to save his life and he ultimately pulled through.

After deducing from Nathan's story that the plant might have made Xander ill, Nicolai and Neville had done the research that eventually yielded the information Hermione possessed now.

"Eduardo? Please take a sample of Rosie's blood and analyse it for exotic viruses. I'm fairly certain that you'll find it to be the one Alexander Kelly was infected with last year. And you need to stop the antibiotic drip, because this virus is like a Chizpurfle. All the potions we tried on Xander only hastened the infection."

Both Rou-wan and Montoya blanched when they heard it.

"You couldn't have known. The only reason I knew is because Nicolai once told me that the thorns of the plant that hosts the virus are used to tip blowgun darts," Hermione said soothingly, attempting to prevent her colleagues from being distracted by guilt at such a critical time. "I am going to call Gudrun and ask her to bring Xander over here. He's got the antibodies we need to fight this." Then she turned to Rou-wan. "Once the virus has been identified by the scans, you have to set the medical V.E.G.'s to enable you to see it. I need you to monitor the progress of the virus. I remember how quickly it propagated in Xander, but hopefully the absence of magic potions to feed on slows down its progress. Either way, we may not have much time left."

"I'll prepare the lab for extraction of Alexander's antibodies in the meantime," Rou-wan answered.

Hermione nodded, approving of the younger Ranger's efficiency, before turning to Montoya, who was about to leave to test the fragment of the thorn. "Can I use the mirror in your office?"

"Of course."

He had barely said the words, and Hermione was off, nearly colliding into Charlie Junior on the way out. Her slippers didn't offer the best of traction, so she neatly slid past the door to Montoya's office, barely maintaining her balance. Once inside the office, she frantically waved her hand over the mirror on the desk and called for Command and Control. The face of an older Belgian Ranger appeared on screen. She was a senior among the Intelligence Division analysts, and Hermione had been instructed by her during her first few months in training, when she'd been uncertain as to whether she ought to join the Medical or the Intelligence Division.

"Sabine. I need to be patched through to the Kellys' house."

"Can it wait? We're kind of busy with the operation your husband is in charge of in the field."

"It's literally a matter of life and death," Hermione said in a tone that allowed no room for discussion.

"You need a high security clearance?"

"Not really. I just need them to be contacted right away!"

Fortunately Sabine took her seriously, and her fading image told Hermione that she had been patched through. She drummed her fingers on the desk top while she impatiently waited for someone to answer. The seconds ticked by, stretching into what her anxious state experienced as an impossible eternity, though intellectually she knew it couldn't have been more than a minute. When someone finally answered, it wasn't Matt or Gudrun, but a sleepy Mary who was staying at her parents' with her daughter because Nicolai was occupied in the Mirror Realm.

"Mary! What took you so long to answer? Why didn't your parents answer one of the mirrors? They have one in their room, don't they?"

"I guess my parents are occupied at the moment," Mary replied, smiling wryly. "You'd think that they'd be a bit more sensitive to my feelings, since I've had to postpone the consummation of _my_ marriage until Lord knows—"

"Then go knock on their door and tell them to answer the mirror in their room. It's an emergency. _Literally_ a matter of life and death. Don't ask what, because I don't have time to explain twice," Hermione said, forestalling the question appearing on the young woman's lips.

Mary disappeared, leaving only an image of an empty painting in the background, its occupant probably visiting in another painting. Moments later Hermione heard the banging of a fist on wood. "Hermione's on the mirror, and she says it's literally a matter of life and death! It sounds really serious."

This time Hermione didn't have to wait very long, and a handful of seconds after Mary's shouts, Hermione's mirror screen split in half and Gudrun's flushed and sweaty face stared back at her from the newly formed half. She probably hadn't bothered to cover up since Hermione used to be her assigned physician before swapping patients with Lilia. Hermione could see the upper part of her breasts covered with a half-licked-away substance that could only be chocolate syrup.

The half of the mirror that Mary had occupied faded and was replaced by the new half completely, allowing Hermione to see over Gudrun's shoulder. Matt was reclined on bed, looking every inch the Greek god, with the sheet pulled up to his middle. As if the Gudrun's general appearance hadn't been enough, the impressive tenting of the fabric left no doubt as to what he and Gudrun had been up to, and she felt a bit embarrassed about having interrupted them despite the anxiety she felt because of Rosie. She also felt a brief pang of envy, understanding immediately why Mary had been so annoyed about it. Matt and Gudrun could be together, while Ron had been called away when he should have had some time off.

"What's the emergency?" Gudrun asked.

"In a nutshell, there's been an attack at the Umbral Gate complex, and Rosie was hurt. She'll probably die if she's not given antiserum soon, and I need some of Xander's blood to make it. Please hurry! Every second counts, so if you feel you're not presentable and need to take a shower first, send Mary instead. Let her use your emergency Portkey."

Gudrun looked shocked, but to her credit she composed herself quickly. "I'll send Mary, but my Portkey goes to my office near the maintenance bay. I'm not sure how quickly she'd find her way to the medical wing, so you'd better contact whoever is on duty there and have one of them escort Mary and Xander. I think Fazal and Karuna are on duty right now. I'll follow as soon as possible—wait, I'd better send Matt instead. He'd be better at calming Xander down."

The connection broke abruptly, and Sabine's blushing face appeared in the mirror again. "I'll connect you to the maintenance bay now."

Hermione understood that Sabine must have been listening in. From her duties in Command and Control she remembered that it was possible for the operator to either listen in with the sound only, or to see the images on both mirrors. This was done to allow the operator to anticipate things and make them go more smoothly, and was probably why the mirror Mary had answered shut off by itself like that. And judging by the blush on Sabine's face, Hermione guessed that _she_ might have looked over Gudrun's shoulder as well.

Karuna Prajapati's face appeared on the mirror in front of her. Hermione knew the Indian witch, because she was her assigned healer. "Hermione? This is an internal connection. Aren't you supposed to be home?"

"You're out of the loop, Karuna. Gudrun's emergency Portkey will bring you company soon. I need you to escort them to the medical wing. Hustle them along. Every second counts."

"What if I Portkey them to you?"

"Oh, can you?" Hermione asked eagerly. "That would be even better!"

"Consider it done. I'll send the arrivals to the Captain's office as soon as they get here."

"I can't wait for them here, so tell them to take a right after they leave the office, and continue down the hall until they find the Weasleys."

"Will do," Hermione only heard Karuna say, because she was already out the door, figuring that CC would shut the mirror off for her. She hurried back to the emergency room again, and Jasmine grabbed her arm with the strength only a frantic mother could manage. "Can you save her?"

"We know what's wrong with her now. The tip of the dart was a thorn that comes from a bush harbouring a virus lethal to all but a few creatures. Medicines don't help"—Hermione paused, briefly contemplating and rejecting the idea of telling Jasmine that potions in fact accelerated the propagation of the virus—"but I've found a way to save her. One species immune to the virus are the Dait. Xander is part Dait, and he was infected with the virus last year, though _that_ was an accident. He _did_ get very ill, but even the little Dait blood he had was enough to save his life. Now he's got antibodies, and I'm hoping that those antibodies will save Rosie."

"You're not sure?" Charlie Senior asked in a strangled voice.

"There's a better than half chance that it'll work, but I can't guarantee anything," Hermione said apologetically. She didn't want to give them false hope, only to have Rosie die anyway.

"We understand," Charlie Junior said, showing surprising self-restraint given the circumstances. In fact, his restraint strongly reminded her of…

Hermione's heart ached as her thoughts strayed to Max, who had died only three days ago. His wake had entailed little more than his friends raising a cup to him, which was the way he would have wanted it. Aside from Heidi and the boys, his death hadn't hurt as much as Hermione thought it would have. She knew that part of that lack of hurt could be attributed to the fact that Wolfe hadn't been an active part of their lives the last few years, and because he had died thwarting Yamato and saving a few million lives in the process. Then there was that tiny part of her that hadn't acknowledged Wolfe's death yet. "I'll do what I can."

Jasmine released her arm, and Hermione quickly opened the door and entered the emergency room. Once inside, Montoya handed her a pair of V.E.G's and she put them on to see how Rosie was doing. She tried not to let her dismay show at the rate of infection, which was all the more shocking since outwardly Rosie didn't seem to be in much discomfort, aside from slight discoloration and a sheen of sweat on her forehead. It was almost as if her body didn't realise how ill it really was, and at the rate the virus was devastating it, Rosie wouldn't last the two hours it would take to isolate the right antibodies in Xander's body. She'd be lucky to survive _one_ more hour.

"We don't have enough time to look for the right antibodies in Xander's blood and make a serum."

"So there isn't anything we can do?" Rou-wan asked worriedly.

"There is," Hermione began slowly, thinking it through as she said it out lout. "We can give Rosie a direct blood transfusion. Suppressing the immunological response due to blood-type incompatibility is much easier than fighting that virus."

"Incompatibility?" Montoya looked pleasantly surprised. "I think I have some good news, then. Alexander Kelly has type O negative. There won't be any rejection. Thank God for small favours."

Some of the tension in Hermione's gut eased as she heard the good news. "We'll have to do a direct transfusion to save time. Good thing we've been taught the proper procedures in case we ran out of blood-replenishing potion, eh?"

"A direct transfusion is risky," Rou-wan said.

Montoya shook his head. "It doesn't have to be. All we have to do is take stock of Xander's blood-count before we do the transfusion, and subtract one pint from that. Then the V.E.G's can be set to flash a signal when the limit is reached, and the transfusion can be aborted."

"Will the antibodies contained in that transfusion be enough to reverse the patient's condition in time?"

"It will have to be," Montoya said resolutely. "The boy turned five in February. Adults are only allowed to give about one-point-eight pints at most, so I won't take any more than one pint from Alexander in one go. One pint is pushing it already! But that is why Blood-Replenishing Potion will be administered immediately after the transfusion. That should allow us to take another pint in an hour."

"It might be too late then," Rou-wan countered.

"Perhaps. However, I am counting on the antibodies transferred with the initial transfusion to buy us some additional time. Now, we'd better start looking for the transfusion equipment."

"I know where it is," Rou-wan said and immediately left the room to fetch the proper equipment from storage. Montoya displayed impressive conjuration abilities by conjuring a slightly taller replica of the bed Rosie was lying on. He had taken gravity into account, though it wasn't strictly necessary since the transfusion tubes had gentle one-way suction charms on them. Hermione conjured a stool that would allow her to sit between the beds.

The door to the emergency room suddenly swung open, revealing Matt carrying his youngest son. The boy was still rubbing sleep from his eyes.

"Matt! You made it after all," Hermione said, feeling pleased that Alexander had been brought so quickly.

The tall Australian smiled. "I remembered a useful deodorising charm from my teens. I thought I'd better go with Xander right away, since I have a feeling that you'll need to do something Mary can't legally authorise."

"You have good instincts. Rosie needs the antibodies in his blood. We don't have enough time left to extract them, so there will have to be a direct transfer of blood. Don't worry, we'll do it responsibly."

Matt nodded in consent as he placed Xander on the bed. "Do what you have to."

"Why am I here, Dad?" Xander asked in a small voice. "Am I in trouble?"

Hermione sat down on the stool, which put her roughly at eye-level with Xander. "No, sweetie," she said kindly, "You're not in trouble. You're here because we need your help. Rosie is very ill, and we have to make a transfusion. Do you know what that is?"

Xander shook his head, and Hermione briefly thought about how to put it simply enough for him to understand.

"Rosie's very ill, and she can't live unless she gets blood from you. Will you give it to her?"

Xander looked at Rosie, and then at the grief-stricken Jasmine who stood in the still-open doorway. He swallowed hard, and nodded. "I'll do it, if it saves Rosie."

Hermione ran her hand through his sleep-tousled hair. "That's a good lad."

Rou-wan returned quickly, and the transfusion equipment was set up. The entry points for the transfusion needles were quickly prepared, and the needles stuck in.

Hermione turned to Montoya. "Will you monitor Xander and stand by to abort the transfusion?"

Montoya—who had moved a bit to allow Matt to sit beside him to hold Xander's hand—nodded and gestured to a bottle of Blood-Replenishment Potion. "I'm ready."

"Rou-wan? Monitor Rosie's vitals. I'll keep an eye on the virus," Hermione said, taking a pair of goggles set to monitor the virus. She lowered them over her eyes, and twisted a valve on the transfusion tube with her other hand, which started the transfer of blood.

Hermione began to notice changes mere seconds after Xander's blood hit Rosie's bloodstream. The viral presence surged towards the newly introduced blood, only to be repelled instantaneously, driven back farther and as each pump of her heart pushed the new blood through her system. As aggressive as the virus was, it seemed just as vulnerable to the antibodies able to fight it.

"You're a brave lad," Hermione heard Matt say proudly.

"I'm happy that I can help. Rosie is always nice to me," she heard Xander reply.

All too soon, Montoya commanded Hermione to stop the transfusion, and she reluctantly twisted the valve back to its closed position. Part of her had wanted to keep Xander's blood pouring in, since the transfusion had halted the infection and had was even slowly reducing it. But the part of her saying that doing so would sacrifice one child for another had won out.

"Her vital signs are stabilising," Rou-wan reported. "How is the viral infection?"

Hermione pushed the goggles up to her forehead and looked at the Weasleys. "It has stopped spreading, and the infection is reversing slowly. The antibodies seem to be able kill the virus more quickly than it can reproduce. If this keeps up, she'll be okay."

Jasmine started sobbing with relief and nearly went limp in her husband's arms.

Hermione smiled. "I'll keep a close eye on—"

A small hand patting her arm interrupted her, and she turned to look at Xander, who stared up at her with inquisitive eyes. "What is it, sweetie?"

"Did my blood help Rosie?"

Hermione glanced at Rosie. Colour was already returning to the girl's cheeks. She turned back to Xander. "Yes, it did. Your blood saved her."

Xander began to smile, but his smile faltered about halfway and his face grew pale. "Will I start to die right away?" he asked with a trembling voice.

Her mind still cluttered by the emotional roller-coaster she'd just been through it took a moment for the implications of what Xander had said to sink in. Recalling the details from her explanation to him about transfusions, she realised that she hadn't made it clear that only _some_ of his blood had been needed. The little boy lying on the bed next to her had consented to help, thinking that he would be giving up _all_ his blood.

With considerable effort, Hermione swallowed away the lump in her throat. "Oh, Xander, you're not going to die! We wouldn't take enough of your blood to kill you."

Matt's large fingers roughly ploughed through Xander hair, and shifting her gaze over to Matt, Hermione saw a look of intense pride on his face. She had a feeling that Matt wouldn't be able to say 'no' to Xander for a very long time.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Greetings, oh noble readers. If it isn't too much of a bother, I'd like you to share your thoughts about thereduced momentum the main plot has been subjected to, particularly in this chapter and the previous one.Was it a nice diversion, or do you think I should have gone on with the mainplot? I'd really apprecaite some comments about this.

Also, I'd like to ask you to read thefic by **RobBonner22**again. Several chapters have been added since I last asked you to have a look at it, so you'll have more material to base an opinion on. Please leave a review, even if you don't like it. (though don't forget tosay_why_ you don't like it) When I began to write there were far fewer stories to compete with, (the good old days when the Harry Potter section only had some 30,000 stories)so I was lucky in that regard and I got plenty of reviews for my first fic. Thinking that no one is reading you fic is far worse that getting criticism on it.I know you all have lives and can't spend as much time as you like checking out every story posted here, but please read and review that fic for me. If you decide you don't like it, that's fine. (as long as youleave a review that says so too)It should be particularly entertaining for those who like to see Harry angry. And the base plot is pretty original.

* * *

**torifire126:** I try.

**DADAGinny**: I do'n't think that someone being good at chess automatically makes them a tactical genius in other circumstances. Chess is highly logical and mathemathical, and it lacks the variables that real battles or even team sports games have. My version of Ron learnt the bulk of what he knows after he joined the Order, and yes, he's not perfect.

**Fragarach**: Yes, he did.

**Gogirl**: It_ was_ powerful stuff.

**Lady of Masbolle**: Reiki, my dear. I don't know if it works, but it certainly seems to work for believers.

**hootild**: My betas help me out a lot.

**RinnaMarie**: Yeah, lots of sisters everywhere.

**Lyambren**: It was used for the latter purpose, as well as to illustrate some of the 'occupational hazards' the Rangers have to cope with. It wasn't very hazardous physically, but very much so emotionally. I'm sorry if you thought it distracting.

**TheSteiner**: I have beta-readers. I'm not good enough to do this all by myself.

**Saint Mike**: It's the last subplot.

**Elric Magus**: I thought it would be a good change.

**Lipton**: It was time for them to return to the spotligh, even if only for a little while.

**NYCGAL**: I've just finished writing the twenty-ninth and penultimate chapter.

* * *


	27. Meeting Allies

Chapter 27

**Meeting Allies**

A hatch opening above his head roused Harry from his deep meditation.

He had spent sixteen hours a day meditating ever since Nicolai had asked him to participate in a strike against Yamato, three days ago. He had felt that every additional power he could discover within himself could help him accomplish his mission more easily. Excluding the gift of Parseltongue—which had presumably been the result of Harry and Wolfe's violent separation upon destroying Korumu's stone—Wolfe had discovered nine powers granted to them through Novoridu's pendants, whereas Harry had slacked off a bit and stopped after discovering his ability to turn himself invisible, leaving his count of discovered powers at five.

Wolfe had discovered that he possessed magically enhanced senses of taste, touch, smell, and hearing, which could be counted as four separate powers. Aside from the granted ability to boost those senses far beyond the perception of even the animals that possessed the sharpest senses in each category, Wolfe's senses had been able to perceive magic. Wizard-kind hadn't even known that enchantments _had_ scents, and that enchanted objects emitted low frequency magical resonance that allowed him to smell, taste, hear, and feel the magic. Much more had been known about magical sight, which Harry possessed, and could be mimicked to a certain extent by magical eyes. Of course, Harry's magic eyesight was much more accurate and versatile than even the best magical eyes were. It was almost as if he had a pair of Sentinel Globes in his head.

The four enhanced senses aside, Wolfe had discovered the ability to drastically change his size, the Animagus ability with seemingly no limit to the animal forms that could be taken, the ability to multiply himself into an army, superhuman strength, and the Metamorphmagus ability, according to what Hermione had told him after he had arrived in the Mirror Realm. Aside from the magical eyesight, Harry had only discovered invisibility, intangibility, flight, and the ability to cast magic through his eyes like surrogate wands. But his meditation had paid off, for he had discovered two new powers.

It was Aberforth who had opened the hatch, and the old wizard was peering down at him. He had insisted on coming with Harry, sending his wife Louise back to the Earth Realm with instructions to look after Heidi, whom the dotty old woman had begun to mistake for one of her murdered great-granddaughters at some point. Of course, Aberforth had known very well that Heidi would probably end up looking after Louise, but that had been the whole point. Without some kind of distraction, the grief would hit Heidi that much harder.

"_Cloud Jumper_ says we're above Floriath," Aberforth said.

Harry blinked while his eyes grew accustomed to the light shining though the aperture. "The main resistance camp?" He levitated himself through the open hatch before unfolding his legs and placing them on the deck.

"Yes, though we can't see anything through the mist. But _Cloud Jumper's_ been here before, and she remembers, so there's no reason to doubt it, is there?"

"When do we land?"

"That's our current dilemma. _Cloud Jumper_ doesn't know if the druids who allowed her to land in the past told their successors about the Shamballah Emperors' flying ships. If they _did_, there's still the problem of whether or not the vines are able to recognise _Cloud Jumper's_ specific profile, since the Duchess of Astirian apparently has a few flying ships as well, some of which she used to probe the resistance camp's defences. _Cloud Jumper_ doesn't fancy being attacked by the vines. It could be safe, since Max told the resistance fighters to expect Nicolai soon, but he didn't tell them about our mode of transportation."

"Why do I get the feeling that this is where I'll be asked to stick my neck out?" Harry grumbled.

Aberforth's eyes shimmered with the Dumbledore twinkle. "If I had the ability to fly and to render myself intangible, I'd be more than happy to assume the role of herald myself. Alas, this is sadly not the case. Just imagine the things I could do—but I digress."

Harry heaved a sigh. "Should I conjure one of those long trumpets to announce Nicolai's arrival? You know, one of those with a banner hanging on it?"

"I believe a horn of some sort was traditionally used to announce the arrival of emperors in the past, so that may be more appropriate in this case."

"I wasn't being serious"—he paused, noticing that the twinkle was still present in Aberforth's eyes—"and you weren't serious either."

"I cherish my sense of humour, my boy. There are already far too many bitter old men out there."

"True enough," Harry replied, as he began to walk towards the small cabin at the back of the ship.

"Did you discover any new powers, Harry?" Janos Gaal called out to him from the helm. The retired Artificer Ranger had volunteered to accompany Nicolai and Harry in case the ship were damaged during the mission and would need some quick repair work.

Harry stuck up two fingers to signal the discovery of two new powers.

Gaal shot him a praising smile. "See how quickly you learn things if you apply yourself!"

"Which powers did you discover?" Aberforth asked.

"First I discovered the ability to understand languages. I suppose it's like the Lingomagus ability. Then I discovered … I can't really explain it." Harry stopped in mid-stride and motioned for Aberforth to stop walking. "Stay there. I'll show you what this power is."

He placed his hands together and concentrated. Then he pushed his hands forward, causing the air in front of him to ripple and his hands to disappear as if he were putting them under an invisibility cloak. He separated his hands, creating a hole in the air through which he could see Aberforth's surprised face. Reaching into the hole, Harry grabbed Aberforth's beard even though the old wizard was five feet away and to the side instead of directly in front him. Glancing sideways, Harry saw his hands sticking out of thin air, holding Aberforth by the beard.

"That's a neat trick. You've created a portal of sorts, right?" Nicolai's voice sounded behind him.

Harry released Aberforth's beard, pulled his hands back through the hole and willed it to close. Then he turned to Nicolai, who was walking towards him. "I reckon that's as good a description as any. I've experimented some. I can only make it about six-and-a-half by two-and-a-half feet."

"Enough for you to pass through comfortably," Nicolai remarked. "It would probably be a tight squeeze for me, though."

Harry concurred. Nicolai was about six feet and four inches tall, and incredibly broad-shouldered. "You could ease in sideways."

"_Can_ someone other than you pass through it?" Aberforth asked.

"I think so."

"Let us put it to the test," Aberforth suggested. "Make us a portal, and I'll go through."

"Did you have any particular destination in mind?" Harry asked. "Bear in mind that I can only make a portal to somewhere I've been before."

"Can you make a portal to the Earth Realm?" Nicolai asked.

Harry shook his head. "I tried, but it was like trying to press my fingers through a concrete wall."

"What does it normally feel like?"

"Pudding."

"Interesting. Well, for the purpose of this exercise you needn't go very far. Can you make it so Aberforth ends up on the bridge?"

Harry pressed his hands together and pushed forward, his fingers sinking into the fabric of space and time. Then he separated his hands, creating a hole through which the back of Janos Gaal could be seen. Then he willed the hole to grow to full size and held it open for Aberforth to pass through.

"Does it take a lot of concentration?"

Harry shrugged. "About as much as treading water. I have to keep my mind on it, but it's not like it prevents me from doing anything else."

"Here I go," Aberforth said, experimentally poking through an arm. When that seemed to have gone all right, he quickly followed with the rest of his body.

Harry turned to look at the bridge and saw Aberforth grinning broadly.

"Does it only work one way, or can he come back?" Nicolai asked.

"It was two-way for me, so I reckon it works the same way for everything else."

"I can hear your voices coming from behind and in front of me!" Aberforth said excitedly. Then he stepped back through the portal, up amidships once again.

"This opens up a world of possibilities," Nicolai said pensively, and Harry imagined the many cogs in his head turning and clicking as he absorbed the information. "How far a place do you think you can open a portal to?"

"I opened a portal to the Immortal's Circle," Harry said. He had opened a portal to the dwelling Merlin had built, peeking in to see how things looked. There had been signs of fairly recent habitation, but Harry had fought the urge to create a portal large enough to step through and find out who had moved in.

"That's on the other side of the Mirror Realm." A smile began to appear on Nicolai's face. "And how long can you maintain a portal?"

"I don't know. It doesn't feel very taxing."

"Would you care to find out?"

"I wouldn't mind trying, but wasn't I supposed to fly down and make contact with the resistance fighters?"

Nicolai smiled and shook his head apologetically. "Sorry. I was getting a bit ahead of myself. You're right, of course. Contacting the resistance has a higher priority."

"So where _is_ this encampment?"

"It should be right beneath us."

"Right. And what do I say once I get down there?"

"You identify yourself and ask for the Druids, who've got to give us clearance to land. Once I'm down there, I expect I'll be the one doing most of the talking, though I'll need you to be close by." He dug around in his pocket and extracted two tiny translation earpieces. "Offer one to the being in charge. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to change. Clothes _do_ make the make man up to a certain point when it comes to making first impressions."

"You need an addition to your current attire too." Aberforth said, nodding towards Harry.

Harry looked down at his emerald green clothing. He too had known that it wouldn't hurt to look good at the meeting with the resistance encampment, so he had saved the outfit for today. Regina had made it for him, and it was basically a Ranger uniform made from different fabric and having a different colour. The spider silk felt incredibly comfortable and luxurious, but like his uniform, the cut was sober and martial, and the colour was dark. It wouldn't look gaudy among people who were likely to be wearing rough spun homemade clothes. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"

"Nothing. However, I though that wearing this might help you make an impression." The old wizard produced Wolfe's Phoenix Katana from beneath his outer robe.

Harry began reaching for the proffered sword, but his arm froze halfway. "Are you sure that's a good idea? Wolfe may have told them that he wasn't coming back, but they might still be clinging to some hope. Seeing me with the sword will dash that hope pretty violently. It could be very bad for morale if they spot the sword hanging on my belt."

"Perhaps," Aberforth said, after taking a moment to contemplate what Harry had said.

"Maybe Nicolai ought to pass it onto me officially after I've shown the people what I can do. It'll give them the opportunity to deem me worthy. It'll be like me taking over the torch from Wolfe."

Another moment of silence followed, and though it was hard to discern, Harry saw Aberforth smirking under his beard.

"What?"

"You've often said that you're not fit to be a leader. If you were to place yourself in my shoes, you'd see that it isn't true. You might not seek leadership, Harry, but good leaders seldom do." He slid the sword back into a ring on his belt and drew the outer robe back in place, concealing the weapon once again. Then he clapped Harry on the shoulder. "You may go make your grand entrance now."

Harry shot him a mock-salute before lifting off the deck and diving towards the murky fog that shrouded the forest. As he drew closer, he activated his magically enhanced sight in an attempt to see through the fog, getting far less penetration than he had anticipated, which led him to the assume that the fog had to be produced by magic. Taking an extra precaution, he rendered himself intangible before plunging into the murky whiteness.

A few seconds after his entry, he saw a pair of vines extending up to meet him. They stopped short a few feet before touching him and receded slowly, which sparked Harry's curiosity. He reached out to the vines with his thoughts to check for sentience and ended up being confronted with an overload of information similar to the times when he'd failed to block out Nicolai. But the type of intelligence was different from Nicolai's. It was more reliant on instincts and sensory input.

The fog thinned into a fine mist as Harry descended, and he finally saw what lay beneath. The place was certainly large enough to be a small town, though its design hinted that it had been built with a different purpose in mind. The largest building was unmistakably a temple, and the crop fields and orchards surrounding it suggested that it was meant to be self sufficient. But as impressive as the temple complex was, it didn't match the enormous trees hugging the twenty foot walls surrounding the complex. They were many times larger than the largest trees in the Earth Realm, appearing to be about five hundred feet tall and two hundred feet at the thickest part of their trunk. Several platforms had been constructed between the enormous branches of the trees, some of which held small buildings of their own.

The stunned expressions and pointing fingers of the people on the tree platforms told Harry that he'd been spotted, and he suddenly felt as self-conscious as he had during his first few flights over Concordia. He righted himself in the air and descended the rest of the way down feet first, keeping his gaze fixed in front of him. He touched down among a group of tall and furry hominids that looked torn between running away in panic or falling to their knees in worship, leading Harry to believe that he might have overdone his regal descent.

He swept his gaze over the people around him, looking for someone who looked like one of the druids or someone with a modicum of authority. He settled on a trio of Etti women clad in muddy brown robes, who were striding his way purposefully. As they drew closer, he saw that they were each a breeding generation apart. The eldest could be the mother of the middle one and grandmother to the youngest one. The furry hominids surrounding him parted respectfully for the trio as they approached, and the eldest woman stopped an arm length away.

Harry produced the two translators and held them up in front of her on an open palm. Then he plucked one out of his palm and demonstrated its use by carefully putting it in his ear, before offering her the other one. She took the tiny translator and followed his example.

"We ought to be able to speak to each other now," he began.

A look of amazement appeared on the old woman's face. "It would appear so," she replied carefully.

"Allow me to introduce myself. I am Harry Potter. Maximilian Wolfe was brother to me, in spirit if not in blood."

"I am Rell," the woman replied. "They are Shen and Ferra," she added, gesturing in turn to the middle-aged and the young woman. "The forest sensed the touch of a half-Nalhati in you. It also sensed a blood kinship to one of our former residents."

Harry nodded, gloom settling over him as he recalled what her inevitable fate would be. "My daughter."

"Maximilian had the same troubled look upon her departure."

Harry briefly pondered whether or not to explain, and decided that it couldn't do any harm at this point. "Because he knew her fate. After she left here, she ventured into the past and ended up saving my life. A year later, she gave the last bit of her essence to save my wife's life. And moments before she did so, she saved the lives of both Maximilian and myself." He sighed. "It must have been hard for him to see her so blissfully unaware of her fate. But it also must have been hard for her to keep her silence in the past."

"We know all about Holly's riding of the winds of time. I met her when I was Shen's age. She is the one who convinced my mother to give the resistance sanctuary."

Harry had a feeling that the position was hereditary, and he nodded to the two younger druids, who looked remarkably like progressively younger versions of Rell. "Are they your daughter and granddaughter, then?"

She shook her head. "They are my sisters. We may look like Etti, but we are not. We are a part of this marsh. _She_ is our mother, and before she became this marsh to protect the secrets of Floriath, she was a Nalhati named Sharu."

Harry instinctively glanced at the soil he was standing on. "So this is how I have been identified."

"Sharu could sense you, as she can sense the imperial ship above us."

"Well, Emperor Savin didn't know for sure whether his ship would be recognised, which is why I came down first. If you would excuse me for a moment, I'll get the message to him." He concentrated, picturing the bridge where Janos Gaal was standing. Then he reached forwards and pried a hole into the air in front of him. Gaal's startled face stared back at him from the hole.

The aging Hungarian wizard regained his composure quickly. "I see you got down safely."

"You've got clearance to land. Come on down."

* * *

"I know it sounds funny, but I'm more worried about the Muggles than the vampires," Ethan Johnson muttered. Being a Muggle-born wizard familiar with the area, he had been drafted to assist in Operation Lucky Break. "Damn it! Why couldn't the ersatz exercises take place in the sewers? It's safer down there."

"How so?" Ron asked, finding it hard to believe that Muggles could be more dangerous than vampires.

"Dad's from Chicago, and he grew up around here. My grandmother still lives here. This is hardcore gang territory. They operate all over the city, but here's where they're really strong. They've been around since the nineteen fifties. If they see your pale British arse on the streets at this hour, we'll get some unwelcome attention for sure. Why couldn't you white boys at least have drunk some Polyjuice to fit in better around here?"

Ron shook his head. "Vampires can smell the altered body chemistry miles away."

"No worries," Maaike's disembodied voice said. "If I see people look at you in a funny way, I'll cast a Confundus and Obliviate cocktail."

"How are we doing, C?" Ron muttered into his communicator, hoping to get a decent update form Clara da Silva, who was keeping track of all of them on her screens.

"They're a block away, and still underground. Pick up your pace a little. Their lead is growing."

"Have they split up yet?"

"All of them are still together."

"Any chance you can direct another team over to the spot they'll emerge?"

"You know there can't be any semblance of co-ordination," Clara chided over the transmission.

"Easy to say for those who won't be facing nineteen bloodsuckers with only a wand."

"Relax, we'll watch your back," Nestor Gaitan said. "Nothing to worry about," he added, and as if to prove his point, he began to sing. "_As the snow flies_… _On_ _a cold and grey Chicago morning a poor little baby child was born in the ghettoooo_…"

"If you keep singing that we _will_ have something to worry about pretty soon," Johnson hissed. "The walls have ears around here."

"Take a right at the next corner, gentlemen and lady," Clara said suddenly. "It looks like the vampires are slowing down. Yes, some are going to the surface. And you might want to walk a little faster. There are some Muggles nearby. Five of them. They could be prey."

"The vamps are in for an unpleasant surprise. Any Muggles out at this hour are likely to be armed," Johnson said, as he lengthened his steps.

"Their weapons won't do any good against vampires." Maaike's disembodied voice said. "It'll only piss them off."

"An update, please," Ron whispered into his communicator after some thirty seconds have passed.

"I've acquired a visual," Clara reported. "Hey, that's odd. The vampires aren't behaving as if they're about to attack, and the Muggles seem to have some odd trunks with them. It looks like those things they use to keep things at the right temperature."

"Maybe the vampires are drinking from straws instead of necks tonight," Maaike suggested.

Ron frowned. "What?"

"Blood bags, taken from people and preserved for later use in special containers. If they don't want to leave a trail of bloodless corpses that attract unwanted wizard attention, it makes sense," Maaike explained.

The explanation cleared things up for Ron. "Right, Muggles don't have Blood-Replenishing potion."

"Maaike was right," Clara said. "One of the vampires is inspecting the merchandise. He's … having a taste?"

"Why would he do that? How are the Muggles reacting to that?" Maaike asked.

"They don't seem surprised."

"If Muggles know about vampires, they must know about us too," Ron concluded. "How could the local magical authorities allow this to happen? Clara, is Citadel CC getting this?"

"Yes."

"Then have them try and identify those Muggles. Narrow it down to the identities of people related to witches and wizards to the second degree or better."

"You think they're related to wizards?"

"Probably not all of them, but I have a hunch that the leader might be. After we finished school, Hermione's parents wanted to start a support group for people with Magical children, but they were discouraged on grounds of an increased risk of the wizarding world's exposure. Anyway, the Muggles who are dealing with the vampires right now obviously don't have the good intentions my in-laws did. Convincing the other Muggles not related to wizards of our existence would have been easy enough with wizarding photos. Do you know how many Muggles are Obliviated every year because people are careless with their photos?"

"But _why_ would they deal with vampires?" Gaitan asked.

"The Muggles can clandestinely supply blood in a way that helps the vampires avoid having to hunt and leave traces of their presence. The vampires are in contact with the wizarding world and can supply magical artefacts. We _know_ that these vampires are likely in league with a rogue artificer, who is adept at creating these magical artefacts. And the reason the local magical authority doesn't know about it is because the Muggles must know about our ability to modify their memories, so they keep their activities under wraps."

"There's a flaw in your theory. Hunting is how vampires get their jollies. The thrill of the hunt and the kill is the only substitute they've got for the sex they can no longer have. Why would they give that up?" Gaitan asked.

"Maybe they _do_ hunt from time to time, but they never do it near their current lair. The easy access to Portkeys they have makes it simple for them to do this," Ron suggested. "And the blood they're buying is used to still their hunger and decrease the frequency of those hunts, making it even more unlikely that they're discovered."

"It _would_ be difficult to cover up the presence of nineteen vampires virtually anywhere." Gaitan nodded. "The amount of blood so many of them need to nourish themselves would lead to noticeable disappearances even in a city as large as this one."

"Get ready," Clara warned. "They are just around the corner. Remember, act surprised. Defend yourself and destroy a few of them when they attack, and when they get reinforcements from the sewers, get out."

Ron's heart began to pound faster. How he would have liked to be holding his wand already. But that would give away that the confrontation hadn't been a coincidence.

The five Muggles and three vampires momentarily froze when they saw the Rangers, but the moment was all too brief, and soon the vampires jumped at the Rangers. Ron didn't think he had ever drawn his wand as quickly as he had just now, but Gaitan had still been faster. Sunlight streamed out of his wand, scorching the advancing vampires and sending them scurrying for cover. Two of them scrambled along a wall and onto a roof, while the other took cover behind a large metal garbage container.

Even though the vampires had been repelled, Ron saw that the Muggles were still dangerous. They had drawn their firearms and were taking aim, so Ron levelled his wand at the most convenient target and let loose a stunner, causing the Muggle to be thrown back a few feet and land in an unconscious heap. This distracted another one of the Muggles long enough for Ron to stun him as well, and two stunners originating from behind Ron felled a third and fourth Muggle.

"Take cover!" Johnson shouted, and Ron would have liked to indulge him, save for the fact that upon entering the alley he had seen that there was precious little cover. Acting almost on an instinct borne by intensive training as a Ranger, he conjured a concrete pillar in front of himself just in time to stop a hail of bullets from the Muggle's firearm. However, he knew that he couldn't stay hidden there forever, since the vampires might attack again or the Muggle could move forward to get a better firing angle. Fortunately, Ranger training came through yet again when Maaike made the most of her invisibility to stun the shooting Muggle.

Despite the fact that the unexpected Muggle interference had prevented the Rangers from destroying any of the vampires, Ron was about to order the Rangers to Disapparate to a predetermined location. But Clara da Silva's voice cut in before he could do so. "Assume a defensive formation. An anti-Apparition hex has just been cast over your location, and the remaining vampires are converging on your position. The primary mission goal has been scrubbed. To hell with appearances. Help is on the way."

"If you've got your gems, put them on your wands," Ron said, while he patted his pockets in search of his red spinel.

"We can't—" Nestor Gaitan began, but Ron interrupted him.

"Sunlight spells are no problem. Trust me!"

Nicolai had warned against using the gem-enhanced wands in the Earth Realm, since it was very likely that any spell cast in the Earth Realm while the wand was tipped with a gemstone would be nearly impossible to reverse. But he had also said that spells where no target was affected—like producing light or a stream of water from the wand—were safe to cast, although the light spell would probably be blinding and the jet of water would be like one coming out of a high pressure hose.

"Damn it, there they're all around us!" Johnson groaned just as Ron's hand closed around the gem.

"Hold them off," Ron said. "I need a few seconds…"

Johnson, Gaitan and Maaike stood around Ron, facing outward in a triangle. Then there was a shriek that caused Ron to fumble and drop his gemstone, and he swore under his breath as he groped around the darkened pavement to retrieve it. He heard screams of agony coming from the vampires while he searched for his gemstone, and after a few seconds everything was quiet once again.

"What the—?" he heard Johnson say, though his tone was one of surprise.

"You may put your wands away now," a resounding voice said.

"Up there!" Maaike said, prompting Ron to look himself. He followed Maaike's gaze and found a trio of figures floating in thin air. Or rather, two of them were floating, while one of the floating ones held an unconscious female vampire up by her hair.

"I am not your enemy, Rangers. Perhaps you have heard of me. I am The Confessor. Forgive the fact that I am wearing a balaclava," the figure continued, as he and his companion began to descend. When a vampire has existed as long as I have, his appearance becomes unsettling to mortals. I do have the ability to make you see me as I once was, or any way I want to be perceived, but I hardly ever bother with it. I choose to embrace my curse. And Mr Weasley, the gem you dropped is two inches away from the heel of your left shoe."

Overcoming his astonishment at an encounter with the oldest known vampire in existence, Ron groped around the indicated spot, indeed finding his gemstone there. "Err, thank you. And how did you know my name?"

He chuckled in amusement. "You underestimate the fame you've gained as Harry Potter's best friend."

"Ah. Well, allow me to introduce the rest of the group. Nestor Gaitan, Ethan Johnson, and Maaike de Bruijn." Ron gestured to each Ranger in turn.

The Confessor gestured to the veiled figure beside him. "My companion is named Baudonivia."

"Just Baudonivia?" Johnson asked.

"The Franks didn't have surnames," The Confessor answered matter-of-factly. "Not even their monarchs. Surnames started being used in the last millennium."

"So how old are you?" Maaike asked, looking at the veiled lady.

"I am not sure. I was born during the reign of the Merovingian King Clotaire I. Does that give you some insight?"

"Wow. I'm not a history buff, but I do know that the Merovingians were replaced by the Carolingians halfway in the eighth century," Maaike replied.

"Stay right where you are!" Mordecai's voice boomed. "Don't make any sudden movements."

"Take it easy, Caleb. It's The Confessor. He and his friend took out the enemy by themselves." Gaitan said as the complete Ranger teams the three Cruisers had carried seemed to swarm the place.

"I refrained from destroying the one holding the magic device," The Confessor added as he held up the unconscious vampire like she didn't weigh anything with one hand, and presented a small cube of about five by five by five inches in the other.

Mordecai lowered his wand and stepped forward to accept the cube. "Great! You left someone for us to interrogate. I thank you on behalf of the Order of Illumination, Mr Confessor."

"Caleb?" The Confessor asked, and followed up by asking something in a strange language, which Mordecai answered in the same language and sparked a rapid conversation in that language.

"It isn't polite to speak Hebrew in mixed company, father," Baudonivia interrupted.

"Forgive me," The Confessor said. "It has been over three hundred years since I have been in Judea, and nearly as long since I've spoken to a fellow countryman."

Mordecai chuckled. "I could tell. If my father hadn't been a scholar who forced me to learn Aramaic and Mishnaic Hebrew, I wouldn't have understood you very well. The pronunciation of what we speak nowadays is modelled on that of the Sephardic Jews from Turkey, Greece and Bulgaria."

"Has it changed that much?"

"Enough for you to have some trouble understanding it."

"So what's your real name, if you don't mind my asking?" Maaike asked The Confessor.

"Judas."

The devoutly Catholic Nestor Gaitan gasped and hastily made the sign of the cross.

The Confessor noticed this and drolly answered, "Not _that_ Judas. He was from Kerioth. I am from Beersheba."

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

I'm moving, so I'll be dropping off the scopes for a while. I'll try to reconnect as soon as possible to upload the other chapters.

There was a fourth story planned, but I don't know if I'll write it. Interest in this series hasnoticably waned. If I _do_ write it, expect it to progress really slowly.

* * *

I'm not going to individually answer the reviews this time, but I'll answer some general comments. The bit about the transfusion was borrowed from somewhere else. It most noticably appeared in _Chicken Soup for the Soul_, but the urban legend goes back way further.

And I thought lots more people would react to the bit about Snape. It seems like you guys read right over it.-)


	28. Rules of Engagement

Chapter 28

Rules of Engagement 

Harry had trouble believing that it had already been a week since Wolfe's death. Time had flown by in the last four days. It had mostly been spent in preparation for the final assault on Astirian, in which Harry's ability to create 'dimension doors' would play a key role. That was why he had been to all the locations that were going to play a role in the assault, namely, to familiarise himself with them well enough to create doorways.

Accompanied by Princess Patrinia, he had been to all the other rebel leaders' hideouts, where only the leaders had been informed of the plans, since the need for secrecy had been paramount. They had been instructed to tell their troops about an upcoming raid where all the camps attacked Astirian's forces simultaneously, in an effort to overburden the ducal forces' response capabilities. The smarter ones among the rebel leaders had pointed out that there was no way to be sure that their cell was free of spies—something that had plagued them since the resistance started, costing them many lives—and that word could leak. Patrinia had assured them that the target was so unpredictable that it didn't matter, and to keep that tidbit to themselves if any of their soldiers pointed out the same thing.

Aside from the planning, Harry had also been pushing himself to improve his new power, much like Wolfe had forced himself to improve his self-duplication and Animagus abilities. In four days, he had learned to extend the boundaries of his doors to cover an area of four hundred square feet.

"Have the reinforcements been sent to the likely targets for the rebel raids?" the Duchess of Astirian asked what had to be a vizier of sorts, confirming the suspicions of the smart resistance leaders. She was a tall and thin Etti woman with closely cropped salt and pepper hair, a beak-like nose, eyes with raptor-like pupils, and a neck even longer than his Aunt Petunia's. She strongly reminded Harry of a vulture.

Harry intangibly and invisibly smiled for various reasons. He smiled about the benefits of being a Lingomagus, having picked up the Etti language used on the continent in less than two days of being immersed in it. He also smiled about the enemy playing straight into Nicolai's hands. The young genius had counted on some of the resistance camps having spies that would report back to Astirian, prompting the decision to send reinforcements and leaving the city with fewer defenders to oppose them at the time of the assault.

"Reinforcements have been sent onboard the inventor's invisible ships," the rat-like man answered. "After the rebel attacks are repulsed, the ships will follow the fleeing insects back to their hidden nests and crush them."

"A pity the inventor's mind worms don't make for clever spies. Had that been so, we would have already known where their camps are," the duchess sneered.

"On the contrary," a calm voice came from behind Harry, and moments later the speaker strolled into the room. "My mind worms can't change the way the rebels operate. They operate in cells that seldom gather, and when they do gather it is only for a few hours and always at a different location. The rebel camp in the enchanted swamp is the only exception to this. Moreover, the cells are small enough that everyone can watch anyone, so a spy can't afford to drop out of sight for too long without raising suspicion. Infiltrating the rebel fighters isn't like infiltrating villages. Had that been the case, as you said, the rebels would have been crushed a long time ago.

"As for your criticism of my mind worms, it is unfounded. It is much easier to trust a familiar face over a new one, and even easier to trust a familiar personality. That is something that even Doppelgangers can not mimic. I am the only one standing between you and defeat. Had it not been for me, the nobles would have overthrown you and given you to the rebels in the hopes of receiving amnesty for their choice to condone and benefit from your slavery scheme. Everyone that matters knows this, so you had better show me the respect I deserve."

Harry had to use every ounce of his willpower not to kill Yamato on the spot. Certainly, he could kill the duchess and the vizier as well, but there was no telling how quickly someone would miss them. As much as he wanted to end Yamato's miserable existence and avenge Wolfe, he knew Wolfe wouldn't have wanted him to endanger the freedom of Astirian's downtrodden. The mind worm spies and the flying ships also posed a problem, even though the latter wouldn't follow the resistance fighters back to their camps because the ducal outposts weren't going to be attacked.

He had a hunch that his magical vision was powerful enough to see the ships in spite of their invisibility magic, and he would deal with them The spies, however, posed a more difficult dilemma, since it was possible that they might turn on the other resistance fighters and slow the attack on Astirian down when speed was of the essence. He had to pluck them out of the soldiers' ranks as they passed through his door, but he knew he couldn't scan people's mind _and_ hold the door open at the same time. He needed help, and there was only one other known Mind Reader in the Mirror Realm at the moment.

"Also, without me you would eventually lose this war, since the Shamballah pacifists have decided to take up arms," Yamato continued, interrupting Harry's train of thought.

"That is _your_ fault!" the duchess hissed. "If you hadn't martyred that Wolfe character, there wouldn't—"

"Wolfe martyred himself. I had nothing to do with that. The plan was to wipe out Shamballah, which will still happen, by the way. Wolfe merely delayed the inevitable with his silly sacrifice."

"How soon will your weapons be ready?"

"In a month or so," Yamato said, though thanks to his earlier scouting activities, Harry knew that he was lying. He had seen several devices stored away in a vault and surrounded by enough security measures to suggest that they were quite operational.

"Do you always store your incomplete artefacts in a vault?" the duchess asked acidly, voicing Harry's own suspicion and proving why the woman had risen to her current position.

"I do when they still need the components to activate them properly and unlock the full potential of the death wave. They can be activated, but at this point only the primary explosion would occur. You wouldn't want the palace and surrounding mile of cityscape to turn into a crater, would you?"

Yamato's poker face and calm tones were impressive, but they couldn't hide his thoughts from Harry. Most of the devices were indeed only partially finished, but three were all done. However, Yamato knew that those three were enough to accomplish the duchess's goals with, and that she would decide that he had outlived his usefulness if she found out about them. He was planning to hide one of them under Astirian, equipped with magic keyed to perceive its maker's heartbeat. Then he'd blackmail the duchess with that information.

The duchess scowled. "Point taken. So why are you here? I have not summoned you."

"I need more subjects to test the new mind worms on. The current batch of worms turned out to be too aggressive. I've made this request several times, but I have the feeling that the bureaucratic process might have prevented it from reaching you."

"Mistress, there _are_ no more subjects," the vizier morosely. "Rebel activity has made the slavers' work exceedingly difficult, and with the Yoogh tribe's extermination last week, the Woroghs have been too busy fighting each other and trying to fill the vacuum to raid unaligned villages for slaves. The slave markets are empty."

"What about the prisoners in your dungeons?" Yamato asked.

"Off limits," the duchess said resolutely. "They are hostages. I need them alive to keep certain dissident nobles in line. However, if you are patient, you will have plenty of subjects after the rebels walk into our trap."

"I wasn't aware of any dissidents," Yamato said shrewdly. "Perhaps there is something _I_ can do to help?"

"Your help isn't needed. It's just some fools who have been entertaining thoughts about replacing me when word of the imperial whelp's in-laws showing up with the Red Diamond Sceptre of Astirian reached them."

"And mind worms could be an excellent solution to your problem. How can you be certain that these dissident thoughts aren't shared by others?"

The duchess rolled her eyes. "I already know that. It's the reason I took the hostages."

"But with my help, you can turn the whole lot into puppets instead of keeping them in line with these hostages. It would help create the illusion of a unified front to the people."

"Perhaps I'll take you up on that offer, _after_ you've insured that your mind worms don't kill them," the duchess replied. Yet her thoughts told Harry she knew that taking Yamato up on his offer would put the dissident nobles in _his_ hands, and not hers.

And Yamato knew that she knew this, so he didn't press the issue. "I suppose I can wait for subjects a little longer," he said silkily, voicing his intention to eventually take over but disguising it behind the topic that he been discussing. Then he turned on his heel and strode out of the chamber.

Harry hung around a little longer to see whether the duchess and her aide would discuss more things worth knowing, but after listening to reports from the secret police he decided to find a nice and secluded spot to create his doorway and return to Floriath.

He decided against flying out of the city, thinking that he could do some additional exploring while inside the palace. He descended through various floors until he had reached the bowels of the palace. Most castles and palaces had boltholes their masters could use in an emergency, and Harry wanted to know about the ones leading out of this one, if possible. He used his magic eyesight to look through walls and beneath the floor, searching for passages. He found some tunnels quickly enough and descended into them, looking them over carefully so Nicolai would have plenty of material to work with when it was time to examine Harry's memories in a Pensieve.

The tunnels converged somewhere near the midpoint of the palace, and underneath a floor that was nearly thick enough to block out even his vision, Harry saw pitch blackness instead of soil. He descended through the floor. There was absolutely no light down there, making the night vision bestowed upon him by the pendants useless. Harry used another of his special abilities instead, and moments later twin beams of light shot out of his eyes, illuminating the space in front of him.

Harry saw that he was in a cylindrical shaft that had a stone staircase running along a wall covered with glyphs that strongly reminded him of the Draconian alphabet. He hadn't studied Draconian yet, so they didn't make a lot of sense to him, but he was certain that Nicolai could work it out.

He followed the stairs up and saw that they ended at a metal arch that looked like a miniature version of the Umbral Gate, and Harry had seen an identical one buried in a wall in the duchess's private chambers. Even though Harry wasn't an expert mason, he was able to tell that the masonry had been quite old, suggesting that the arch had been covered up well before the duchess grabbed power. He had seen something like a keyhole in the side of that arch, and as he floated up to check, found another hole in this one. That explained why the palace's current mistress didn't know about this space. It wasn't physically connected to any secret passage way, working much like the Concordian portals and the Umbral Gate, and the entryway and key had been hidden a long time ago.

Harry rendered himself tangible to test the air, since he breathed his own magic instead of air when he was intangible. The air was like that of any enclosed space that had been sealed off for ages, so he quickly reverted to intangibility and continued his descent, until the light coming out of his eyes flitted across a glittering surface. He turned and headed in that direction, his light exposing more and more of his discovery, until two mechanical constructs roughly twenty five feet tall were illuminated.

One was red, and the other was gold. The red one's head resembled a dragon's and the gold one looked very much like a sphinx. They had large gemstones mounted in either shoulder, and another one on the left part of their enormous metal chests, just like Matt's Anzu. The delicate features and curved bodywork told Harry that the gold one was supposed to be female. Looking down, he noticed that each construct stood in a square of matching colour, and that there was a third square, this one painted in black. It had to be Anzu's spot, and as he realised that, another bit of information crawled into the back of his mind. The guardians on the shield of Astirian had been a black griffin, a red dragon, and a golden winged sphinx.

Knowing that he'd lingered long enough, Harry created a doorway to Ironheart's office in Shamballah and stepped through, getting an eyeful of something that he wasn't meant to see. Covering her exposed torso as best she could, Galatea's sister Thetis rolled off Ironheart's desk with unlikely finesse in light of her plump physique and quickly scurried behind a long curtain. They hadn't actually been doing anything yet, but Ironheart's unbuttoned shirt and trousers around his ankles made it abundantly clear that they had been about to.

"I'm sorry for dropping in like this," Harry began as he tried to will his embarrassed blush away. "I wanted to keep this new ability a secret for as long as possible, so I didn't want to appear in the antechamber and tip off your secretary."

"I would have done the same if I had been in your shoes," Ironheart replied, seemingly unfazed by the situation. Harry guessed that it probably wasn't the first time the former Ranger commander had been caught with his pants down. "I gave my secretary the day off for obvious reasons, so could you please wait in the antechamber while we get dressed?"

Harry hurried out of the office and took a seat behind the secretary's desk, silently berating himself for his stupidity until Thetis came through the door and walked out of the antechamber, not meeting Harry's eyes.

"You can come in now, Harry," Ironheart called.

Harry rose from his seat, walked into the office and plopped down in a high-backed chair in front of Ironheart's desk. "I hope I didn't embarrass Thetis too badly. Is she mad at me?"

"No, she's mad at _me_ for insisting that no one could possibly walk in on us. I know it's a bit of a weak excuse, but I can't help myself. There is something in the Mirror Realm that brings out the incubus in me, and my age hardly slows it down like it does in the Earth Realm. My wife was delighted with the extra attention at first, but she's not exactly young anymore, though she has aged very gracefully even for a witch—" Ironheart stopped abruptly, finally having noticed Harry's mortified expression. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, but the situation is really becoming a problem. Without regular attention from he opposite sex, I hardly get any work done anymore. I wonder how Nicolai is doing, having been cut off from Mary for nearly a week."

Thinking about it, Harry realised that Nicolai _had_ seemed a bit flushed around some of the females in the resistance, and some of the looks they had given him suggested that he might have lost control of his pheromone emissions a few times. "I think they need to be reunited as soon as possible."

Ironheart smiled sympathetically. "Poor boy. So what can I do for you, Harry?"

"I was just eavesdropping on Yamato, and I heard about some new and improved mind maggots."

"The creatures he used to control the Muggles in Brazil?" Ironheart asked.

Harry nodded.

"And how exactly can I help?"

"Yamato has managed to infect some resistance cell members and turn them into spies, and I need you to sniff them out."

"Why can't you do it yourself?"

"In a nutshell, Nicolai and the resistance fighters are going to use my ability to attack Astirian from within, but maintaining one of these doorways takes a certain amount of concentration, so I can't be scanning the minds of those lining up to pass through at the same time. I'd rather not have those spies at the backs of the other resistance fighters and slow them down with an attack from behind, which is where _you_ come in."

Ironheart sighed. "I see. Then I had better tell Vassily that I'm leaving."

Harry smirked as his thoughts strayed to the Russian ex-Ranger with the rugged exterior and even more rugged manners, who was now one of Ironheart's aides. He had always thought that Vassily Poliakoff would remain single on account of there being no woman in the world crazy enough to hook up with the aging wizard. Of course, he hadn't known about the Mirror Realm, which was where the bride was from. "He's back from his honeymoon, then?"

"It would appear that Vassily's in-laws are more …err, _unrefined_, than he is."

Someone knocking on the door prevented any further deliberation on the level of refinement possessed by Vassily's in-laws.

"Donavan, it's Matt!"

Matt's arrival made Harry feel slightly better about showing up unnannounced earlier. If he hadn't interrupted Ironheart and Thetis, Matt probably would have interrupted things in a far more advanced state.

"Come in."

The door swung open and the tall Australian swaggered through. Harry immediately noticed something different about him. He'd had a haircut, and looked surprisingly boyish with his hair just long enough to stay flat when brushed back. Part of the front fringe also seemed magnetised, sticking up rebelliously while the rest stayed perfectly in place. He looked like a kid who had just left school, and the resemblance his son Alexander bore to him was suddenly even more striking.

"No comments on the hairdo. It's bad enough that a shopkeeper thought I was Mary's twin brother instead of her father. And there was also someone who thought I was her boyfriend."

"After all the publicity around Nicolai and Mary's marriage? You'd think that everyone in Concordia knew their faces by now."

Matt shrugged. "She was dressed in Muggle clothes, so she might have been a tourist."

"I'm not really surprised," Ironheart said. "You've barely aged since I met you, and if my memory serves me well, I believe your Archidiaconus great-great grandfather died of old age at two hundred and one."

Harry was confused. "I thought most of your relatives were killed during Voldemort's first rise."

"Old William didn't have my great-grandfather until he was ninety, who in turn didn't have his eldest until he was seventy-two, and my grandfather when he was eighty-five. So he was already one hundred and seventy-five when my grandfather was born. He was dead before my mum was born."

Harry grinned sheepishly. "Sorry. I was under the assumption that the gaps between the generations were more normal."

"My ancestors' breeding cycles _are_ a bit hard to imagine by people who have been raised by Muggles. But you know, Harry, you haven't aged either. I mean, you're a wizard, but there still ought to be _some_ difference after a decade."

"I've noticed, and I've asked Nicolai about it. He thinks that I might be sharing the longevity Ginny got from Holly through our Twin Flame bond."

"So what brings you here?" Ironheart asked Matt. "I thought things were rather busy with the vampires."

"Four days ago, The Confessor and his eldest offspring showed up and decimated nineteen of the vampires in a few seconds. They've been working with us to track the remaining vampires ever since, and that really took quite a bit of the pressure off. Ron's team is still heading the operation, but one of the other Cruisers that was due back earlier has come home. Its team is taking some R&R. But I'm not an official news carrier. I was actually hoping to ask you where to find master tree-house builders, because Pecos Bill talked about a tree-house village in his book, and Xander wants a large tree-house for Christmas. I know I shouldn't spoil him like this, but its hard not to indulge him right now. I assume you've heard about Rosie?"

"What about her?" Harry asked, not having heard. "And did you mean The Confessor as in the oldest vampire currently in existence?"

"That's him," Matt nodded. "His name is Judas, by the way."

Being the son of a creature reviled by the Muggle churches, Ironheart had never struck Harry as one to be religious, so he was quite surprised when Ironheart made the sign of the cross.

Matt laughed. "Not _that_ Judas, Donovan. He _is_ a contemporary, but The Confessor is from Beersheba. The apostle was from Kerioth."

And what happened to Rosie?" Harry asked.

"A Doppelganger slipped through security at the Umbral Gate and shot her with a virus-carrying dart. A transfusion from Xander saved her."

Harry frowned. "Why attack Rosie?"

"Jasmine and Charlie Jr were the intended targets because they were Mind Readers," Ironheart explained. "The Doppelganger followed Charlie Sr in the hopes that he'd be led to his targets. He was in league with the current Astirian regime."

"With a little luck that won't be a problem much … hold on! Matt, could the Order loan you to the war effort here if we gave them a really good reason?"

"Why?" Matt asked.

Harry gestured to a vacant chair. "Have a seat. I'll tell you all about it."

* * *

Back in Shamballah, Harry had told Matt about the political situation in Astirian, convincing him that his presence in Astirian might cause some reluctant ducal followers to decide not to resist the transition of power. And on the quick trip to the Earth Realm to collect Anzu, Harry decided that Mary's presence could also benefit the war effort, if only to give Nicolai a chance to vent his demon hormones without feeling guilty about it afterwards and allow him to concentrate better. And from the looks on their faces, it appeared to have worked.

"Thank you, Harry," Nicolai said, looking refreshed and relaxed as he exited the Captain's cabin with Mary in tow. "I really needed to get that out of my system. I find it much easier to think straight now."

"How could you possibly?" Mary gave her husband an incredulous look. "I guess my capacity for reason was transferred to you, then, because _I can't_ think straight. You've sha—" She remembered that she was in company, and caught herself. "I'm completely senseless! What has got into you?"

"It appears the magically charged atmosphere in the Mirror Realm stimulates my demon genes to a point where they are much harder to control," Nicolai said seriously. "Had it not been for the alterations brought upon me by Ivan, I might not have resisted certain temptations, so I suppose Grandpa really can't be blamed."

Harry turned to look at Ironheart flirting with the pretty blue-skinned Jann girl named Faísha on the front deck. She seemed to love the attention she was getting from the emperor's suave half-demon grandfather.

Mary's blissful expression darkened and she wrapped her arms around Nicolai possessively. "I'd better stick around to protect my interests, then."

"What about Oprah?" Nicolai asked.

"Oopsie and my kids are spending time at Caer Sidi with Gudrun's mum and dad," Matt said.

"They'll get bored pretty quickly, Dad," Mary said. "Spending time with Grandma and Grandpa will only keep those kids entertained for a few more days at most."

"That's why I offered Charlie and Jasmine to spend part of their holiday there, and to take the Wolfe kids with them. They could use the break after the scare with Rosie, and their kids will keep our kids occupied. I told them they could invite the rest of the Weasleys over as well."

Harry wasn't sure whether it was a good idea to have Susie and Millie roaming Caer Sidi, but refrained from commenting. It was time to direct everyone's attention to the task at hand. "The troops are ready, and I've brought all the resistance cell leaders here. They're not carrying the mind worms, and I've made sure that none of their people saw how I'd got there and how we left, so my dimension door secret is still safe. We can start whenever you're ready."

Nicolai went to a cabinet, and took out a modified version of the projectors used by the Order of Illumination. "I'm ready."

After a moment's concentration, Harry pressed his fingers forward and opened a doorway to the briefing room in a tent that had been erected in one of the dry patches in the marsh outside of Floriath.

"Hey Donovan! Stop chasing skirts and harem pants. Time to go to work," Matt called to Ironheart, who reluctantly broke off his animated conversation with Faísha and returned to his grandson's side. Then they all crossed into the tent where the resistance leaders were waiting for them and took their seats behind the head table. They hadn't counted on Ironheart and Mary, so Harry and Nicolai remained standing and allowed the other two to have their seats.

Nicolai placed the projector on the head table and clicked his gemstone onto his wand. With a flick of his adapted wand, he activated the projector and a map of the Astirian City shimmered into existence. "This will be our target today," he began in Etti. "The means that was used to get you here is the means we are going to use to take the city in a battle with very little bloodshed. Harry?"

Harry stepped forward. "Our first step will be to take the armouries, both the ones in the palace as well as the ones in the city." From the corner of his eye, Harry saw the armouries light up on the projection. "With my help, we will place squads of resistance fighters inside each of them. Their task will be to prevent the inevitable rush to access to the weapons once the attack begins. The doors swing outwards, so there isn't any way to barricade them, which is why I'll place powerful locking charms on them. I see some inquisitive faces among you, so I'll elaborate. If everything goes as planned, the ones doing armoury duty won't have to fight.

"After the armoury teams are in position, the palace assault force will seize control of the palace. Again, insertion will happen in stages, with squads coming though the dimension doors and securing key areas like the gatehouse and other exits, including the secret ones I've discovered. These squads will be larger than the ones in the armoury, since they are likely to be engaged by the palace guard. In order to better defend the exits, I recommend that the teams set up their defence in the antechambers, where there is plenty of cover. Locking charms will be placed on the exits to prevent or delay the escape of any palace dwellers in case the teams guarding them have been forced to retreat. That's right, _retreat_. I'm not asking anyone to die if they don't have to.

"There are some powerful and destructive devices in the castle, so I'll be momentarily unavailable while I deal with those. After they've been dealt with, I'll open several larger doorways and the main body of the palace invasion force will sweep through the castle. To those of you who aren't happy about the suddenness of this assault, I can only say that waiting longer could have made matters much more difficult." He nodded to Nicolai. "Emperor Savin predicted that Yamato—the duchess' new ally—would turn the palace into an automated death-trap given a few more months, and I've discovered that this is indeed the case. Any questions?"

There were none, so Harry proceeded.

"The assault on the city will begin once the palace has fallen and our people control the battlements. Tall buildings throughout the city will be taken and archers put on their rooftops to suppress anyone who might have gained weapons through unforeseen means. The city blocks where the armouries are located will also be secured. Aside from them, there will be no ground force yet. The rightful heir to the throne of Astirian"—Harry gestured to Matt—"and myself will fly over the city, calling out that the city has already fallen. The sight of the black griffin might drive them to submit peacefully. Like the emperor said, we don't want any bloodshed. The regime change has to occur as quietly as possible. If the citizens think that they won't survive the day, they _will_ resist with what little weapons they have left."

"Surely you won't allow those people to go unpunished?" a female Dait cat-woman asked hotly. "They have profited from our suffering."

"Those who have actively captured and traded slaves _will_ be executed," Nicolai cut in. "It will be a long and slow process to sort out those who actually did participate in the slave trade, since plenty of people will deny it, but my grandfather is a Mind Reader. I've also invented a potion that will bestow that gift on someone else for a limited time. I'll give it to trustworthy individuals of whom I can be certain that they can control their animosity towards the citizens of Astirian. They will aid in speeding up the process a little.

"Adults who have approved of slavery will endure forced labour to place them in the shoes of those whose sweat and blood made their luxurious lives possible. Children will be re-educated both in special schools and by the sight of their parents tired from a hard-day's work, and teenagers will be judged on a case-by-case basis.

"Then there are bound to be people who didn't approve of their way of life but were forced to accept it in order to survive. These could either be people who refused to buy slaves or bought them to protect them from a cruel fate at the hands of a cruel master. There won't be many in that situation, but there _will_ be _some_, and it's imperative that they're identified quickly. I know you members of the resistance will be sceptical about such claims, but I beg you to keep an open mind. Their lack of slaves or their former slaves vouching for them will be an identification marker which validates an appointment with a temporary Mind Reader to confirm their character.

"Taking the city will be the easy part. Pacifying the area will be much more difficult. The duchess has thoroughly poisoned your society, and healing it is going to take a long time. Plenty of folks who will want a return to the current status quo will resort to guerrilla warfare to try and accomplish just that. They'll have to be dealt with before the re-education can commence."

"Why not kill them all and be done with it?" the angry resistance fighter spoke up again.

"I won't condone genocide!" Nicolai replied sharply. "Killing all those people who didn't get on the wrong side of this regime—especially the children who didn't know any better—isn't the way to solve this. I already have a contingency plan to deal with them. Past scenarios have shown us that the best protection insurgents have is to hide among the civilians. But thoughts can't be hidden, so _we_ can easily remove the rotten fruit without tossing out the whole barrel. Make no mistake, if we stoop to _that_ level, we'll be no better than they are! Do I make myself clear?"

Nicolai's fierce glare gave Harry goose bumps. He had never seen the normally mild-mannered young man project such presence. It was the glare of a true emperor, and the subdued reactions among the resistance leaders reflected this.

* * *

**A/N: **Special thanks to the reviewers. I really don't have a lot of time on my hands, so I can't answer them. :-( 


	29. Final Assault

Chapter 29

**Final Assault**

Ironheart cleared his throat as a female Etti resistance fighter prepared to walk though Harry's doorway. This had happened at nine of the thirty-eight cell camps, and Harry gave the waiting cell leader a meaningful glance.

Fortunately the young woman turned out to be the only spy in that cell—another cell had had two—and when everyone had passed through the dimension door, he followed and immediately shot a pair of stunners out of his eyes. Ironheart had already been in position, and he caught her before she hit the floor.

"She was a spy, but not a willing one!" the cell's Dait leader told the others quickly. "She will be taken to Floriath where she'll be cared for until she can be cured."

"How do you know?" a young Meidel said in his species' typical rumbling voice.

"The inventor allied with the duchess made worms that can take over people's minds. But Mind Readers can detect their presence," Harry quickly explained, like he had done in the previous cases. Then he opened a new doorway to the hospital in Floriath and levitated the unconscious woman through. The floor in the hospital had been marked before Harry left, to allow the staff to tell where the doorway would periodically open, and a trio of dwarves who had been waiting on the other side loaded the woman onto a stretcher and carried her off.

"Was this the last group?" Ironheart asked.

Harry nodded. "All the armouries that I know of have been covered, as well as the exits." He gestured to the still open doorway. "Your part is done. You're too valuable to be on the frontline, sir," he added, cutting off the protest Ironheart had been about voice. "I know you can do a lot of damage with your wand, but one of the guards might get lucky and take you out. That would leave us one Mind Reader short, and _that_ might complicate Nicolai's pacification plans."

A shapely blue-skinned female had appeared in the doorway as Harry was finishing his sentence, and all Ironheart's objections fled his mind. He was through the doorway faster than Harry could say incubus, and Harry closed it behind him. Then he turned towards the heavy wooden door and consecutively cast locking and unbreakable charms on them.

When the doors were secured, he addressed the resistance fighters. "I suggest you mount your defence from the antechamber. Good Luck!"

He was off half a heartbeat later, invisibly floating through the corridors and resisting the temptation to stun passing palace dwellers and reduce the likelihood that anyone came across the resistance fighters guarding the gates. He knew he could have stunned them and shoved them through his doorway like had had done to the duchess's men in the guardhouse, but it would take precious time away from his tight schedule. The destruction of Yamato's weapons was more important than everything else.

Not wanting to risk missing Yamato's workshop, he stuck to the paths he knew, flying through walls and floors only when he was absolutely certain about where he'd end up. He reached Yamato's dungeon workshop within minutes, quickly stunning a pair of Etti who were cleaning out a fireplace. Then, after closing the doors to the workshop and barricading them with magic, he began laying everything to waste with powerful destruction spells, starting with Yamato's completed projects in the vault before moving to anything else in sight. In Harry's case, everything in sight included the artefacts stored in the cleverly hidden compartments Yamato thought no one would find. Of course, he hadn't counted on someone with powerful magical eyesight.

Harry checked his watch after the destruction was complete. Ten minutes had passed, and he was a bit ahead of schedule. He took another good look at the workshop to see if he had missed anything. He found what he was looking for hidden in what had appeared to be a reflection disk for the torchlight, having belatedly noticed its faint magical aura. It was a communications mirror like the ones used by the Order of Illumination and the Concordian citizens, and Harry guessed that it had been adapted to constantly send a one-way feed to another mirror. The other mirror was probably in Yamato's private chambers, and Yamato might have seen the destructive beams come out thin air, allowing him to put two and two together and identify Harry by his powers. Even though Harry hadn't yet been able to turn himself invisible when Yamato had fled into the Mirror Realm, the twin spell-beams and easy discovery of the hidden compartments should have been enough information for someone of Yamato's intelligence to allow him to deduce that Harry must have added a few powers to his arsenal.

Harry considered searching the immediate vicinity for Yamato but rejected the idea in the knowledge that his vengeful feelings increased the likelihood of getting carried away. Instead—after destroying the mirror, lest he clumsily betray his most valuable power to Yamato—he opened a portal to Floriath and carried the two unconscious captives through. He found Nicolai standing nearby, and called him over.

"Prisoners?" the young emperor asked as he and Princess Patrinia drew closer.

"Stages one and two are complete," Harry began, taking the opportunity to report his progress. Then he nodded to his prisoners. "And these two _are_ prisoners. I caught them cleaning Yamato's workshop. You know how paranoid Yamato is, so the fact that they're allowed to clean his inner sanctum in his absence means that he trusts them to a certain extent. Or maybe they're under the control of mind worms. I didn't check. There was also a mirror altered to function as a surveillance device, and Yamato might have been watching. I was invisible, but if he was watching he probably knows that it was me anyway."

Nicolai nodded. "It's too late to do anything about that now. I anticipated that he'd be hard to catch, unless we were very lucky. I factored possible possession of an invisibility cloak into my calculations. The Xon can see in the ultraviolet spectrum, so I instructed them to keep an eye out for someone hiding under an invisibility cloak. They can't see the person under the cloak itself, but they can see the bending light. To them it would be like the person is Disillusioned instead of really invisible."

Harry hoped that the giant mantis-like creatures did indeed get lucky, even if he _had_ just trashed Yamato's whole workshop and destroyed the dangerous weapons. As long as Yamato remained free, he would be a threat. It would be foolish to think that Yamato had kept everything in his workshop. No doubt he had a lifeboat stashed somewhere.

"Grandpa and I will check the prisoners for mind worms," Nicolai continued. "Are you ready to proceed with the next stage?"

"Are Floriath and Freedom Battalions ready to secure the palace?"

"They've been ready for hours," Princess Patrinia answered with a hint of urgency in her voice.

Harry knew that urgency. It wasn't a good thing for a fighting force to be on edge for too long. Normally a few hours wouldn't make much of a difference, but for people who have been longing for freedom for the better part of their lives, it could be an eternity. "And have they divided themselves by companies as I requested?"

"Overall commanders have been agreed upon," Patrinia said to his relief, for even though Wolfe had begun to teach the resistance fighters to operate on a larger scale than they had done previously, there hadn't been many opportunities to practice. In fact, before Wolfe came along they had hardly formed groups larger than medium sized platoons of about thirty individuals. However—excluding the towers—the palace had seven floors and three dungeon sublevels, each needing at least a hundred troops to sweep and secure them since Harry wanted any lingering armed palace guards easily overpowered in case they decided to resist. The actual room-to-room searching could be done in the small groups the resistance fighters were used to.

"I _do_ have one more concern," Harry began, wanting to address the nagging worry he felt about the ducal soldiers that had been lured away. "What if the ducal forces that have been lured away decide not to lay down their arms if they hear that the duchess has fallen?"

"Those who have been sent to lie in ambush are mostly the mercenaries. What motivation to fight would they have left?" Patrinia asked.

"Can you pay them _more_?"

"No. Why would I want to do that? With the duchess gone, there will finally be peace."

"_Exactly!_ And they have no use for peace, so the way they see it, the duchess is their livelihood. That might drive them to try to restore her to power, and the people who stand to regain their status will join them in their effort."

"It would be worse if Yamato manages to escape," Nicolai said suddenly. "The duchess is his avenue to power as well, and keeping her in power is in his best interests—until he's ready to overthrow her and grab power for himself, of course. He would warn them about the attack on Astirian City and have them back before we are ready to mount a solid defence."

"It would take him days—possibly a week—to reach the villages where the enemy is waiting in ambush," Patrinia countered.

Nicolai shook his head. "Before Yamato built the ships for the duchess, he must have built one for himself. He always puts himself first. It's how his mind works. We knew that the doomsday weapons were kept close by, since he's simply too paranoid to live with even the remotest chance that someone would stumble across a secret cache containing such a weapon. I have a feeling that the weapon isn't very hard to activate, increasing the likelihood that it could be used against him. But a personal transport … that wouldn't be any problem. He could charm such a ship to react only to him."

"Why can't he do that with the weapons?" Patrinia asked.

"Incompatible magic," Nicolai explained. "I've worked out the theory in my head. I found it extremely difficult to do so—and, at the risk of sounding conceited, that's saying something. It's _definitely _impossible to carry it out. Well, someone like me could do it, since I can mentally guide the spell, but my intelligence stretches way beyond even the upper end of the human norm. Yamato is a genius in his own right, but he's not intelligent enough. Not that it would matter if he were. Harmonising that much destructive magic with a personal imprint requires more power than any one wizard possesses."

Wolfe's revelation about the consciousness behind magic flashed through Harry's mind. It was almost like that consciousness didn't want any one individual to be able to control the destruction that magic can potentially cause. It didn't prevent the possibility of someone using magic for such destruction, but it did allow for the possibility of mutual deterrent. Harry would have been happier if creating such dangerous weapons had been downright impossible, but mutual deterrent was better than one person controlling everything.

"If only I had known about those ships sooner—how busy Yamato has been. I anticipate that these new ships are a great deal faster than the old troop carriers too." Nicolai slammed his right fist into his left palm in a rare show of frustration.

"I could deal with those ships after delivering Matt and Anzu to Astirian," Harry suggested. "But he'd be on his own until I'm finished with them, and that would take hours. I haven't been to any villages, so I'd have to actually cover the ground to get to them. Bugger, I don't even know which villages the ships are at."

"I'm fairly certain I know which villages they are likely to have sent the troops to, and I could also tell you which of the resistance cell locations you've visited are closest to the respective villages," Nicolai said with the self-confidence only a person with an encyclopaedic and photographic memory would be capable of in such a situation. "That would significantly reduce your travelling time, wouldn't it?"

Harry nodded. "It would be a huge help."

"However, you need to specify what you mean by _dealing_ with the ships. It's true that a lot of the troops onboard are unscrupulous mercenaries, but there are also a lot of conscripts from the villages, people who have been forced to serve. Their deaths wouldn't sit well with their kin in the villages—and my cousin worked hard to win them over."

"I understand. I could invade the ships' bridges and take them to the ground before disabling them," Harry offered. "Unless the designs are radically different than the ones on the ship at Laketown, it shouldn't be too difficult."

"If you are going to leave Matt on his own for an extended period of time, I had better alter our plans a little. The amount of awe the sight of Anzu will inspire is highly uncertain. It certainly won't be as impressive as you doing your _Superman thing_ and laying waste to some elite guard barracks by blasting them with your eyes." Nicolai turned to Patrinia. "Tell the reserves that they'll definitely see action, and I'll go tell Gaal to get ready to take off with _Cloud Jumper_. She's been outfitted with the cannons the cruisers use, so she'll play the role of gunship. She can make the trip in ninety minutes if she flies at full speed."

Harry narrowed his eyes suspiciously. He didn't have to be a Mind Reader to be able to tell that Nicolai was planning to be onboard _Cloud Jumper_ when it appeared over Astirian City. "You can't risk your neck."

"What I _can't_ do is command from the rear. The concept of leadership here is similar to that of ancient and medieval times in the Earth Realm. The Commander in Chief doesn't have to wield a pike in the phalanx, but he does have to be within sight of the engagement, and it's preferable that he spends at least a little while fighting himself. This is a time for making impressions, and hiding behind the soldiers is something the duchess has done throughout her ascension to power. It's why she's regarded as being cowardly even among her own supporters, and why she needs a secret police to keep those supporters in line. It'll be a little less difficult to pacify a population that respects its conquerors' leader, and every little bit helps."

"What if _Cloud Jumper_ gets shot down?"

"They'll have to see her first. Besides, all the buildings that could likely hold weapons to repel a flying enemy will be controlled by our troops."

Harry sighed. "I'd better get to work, then. The castle still needs to be properly secured. But when do I get the locations of the villages? I won't be able to find you if _Cloud Jumper_ is underway. Damn, this is all Yamato's fault. Why couldn't he have co-operated by being in his workshop when I got there? Don't we deserve a stroke of luck from time to time?"

Nicolai shot him a rueful smile. "We'll have to make our own luck, as usual. And you _can_ find _Cloud Jumper_ even when it's underway. It wasn't exactly stationary when you experimented with the doorways. We weren't travelling, but we weren't hovering in a fixed position either. It didn't occur to me until Gaal told me that he'd done some manoeuvring just to see if the doorways would shift, but nothing happened. Your destination doesn't have to be a geographically fixed location."

"Really? So I can go to mobile locations just like the Order's 'return to Cruiser' wrist-Portkeys?"

"Not exactly. Those Portkeys need to be within the range of a Cruiser's magic detectors, and those detectors have to be emitting a magic homing signal. You can find a ship once you've been on it, regardless of the distance."

Harry grinned. "I'm beginning to feel lucky again."

* * *

It was often said that strategy ended and tactics began when one met the enemy in battle. That wasn't quite right. People tended to forget the part about operations, since it had too many variables and thus wasn't included in most war games. The way fighting forces _operated_ was more crucial than even the best strategies and tactics, since strategy and tactics actually had to be carried out. An army that couldn't operate never got the chance to implement any of its strategic plans. This meant that a wise strategist had to come up with a way to deprive the enemy of their operational necessities, preferably before the battle. This was the main shortcoming of the oldest war game, chess. The board was as regular and mathematical as everything else in the game, excluding the unknown variables that ruled in real battle.

The armouries had been taken first, preventing the off-duty guards from getting to their weapons in case the alarm was sounded, and all the doors into the palace had been shut by powerful spells, preventing anyone from entering in the unlikely event that some outside guards _did_ manage to find weapons. But that hadn't happened. No one outside the palace had even know that something was amiss until Matt—flying on Anzu—had swooped over palace's tallest spire and ripped the ducal house's enormous flag of off its flagpole. It had been quite an impressive sight, and Harry had inwardly praised Matt's flair for dramatics. It had been his idea to inform the Astirian citizens of the situation in that shocking manner.

The invasion had gone more smoothly than anyone had hoped. Lady Luck must have been listening to Harry earlier, since fortune had also played its part. No off-duty soldier or city dweller had tried to enter one of the armouries in the city, only to find it suspiciously sealed and raising the alarm because of it. Not that it could have changed the outcome, but a heightened state of alert might have made the surreptitious intrusion into the city more difficult and bloodier. The armouries' neighbours had been taken completely by surprise and had thus been subdued quickly, none of them getting away to alert other parts of the city.

One by one, pockets of neighbourhoods had silently fallen to the resistance, and after that part of the operation, Harry had opened a doorway for Matt and Anzu. Together they had flown over the city, Harry destroying military barracks, ballistae and other weapons designed to take out large flying craft, with super-powered Reductor Curses from his eyes. After ripping the ducal flag off its pole, Matt had swooped low over rooftops, occasionally landing and transforming Anzu into its bipedal battle configuration to chase some misguided would-be city defenders back into their homes.

Harry now stood on the wall surrounding the palace and looked up at that spire. The ducal flag had been replaced by Shamballah's flag. Then he turned and looked at the citizens gathered on the market square that faced the main gate. They were all incredulously looking at the new flag waving in the gentle breeze. The expected short-lived skirmishes in the occupied city blocks hadn't occurred. The initial shock and awe of seeing the black griffon of an allegedly extinct royal bloodline must have been greater than Nicolai had foreseen. Still, that didn't mean that others wouldn't try to resist later. Harry hoped that the shock effect would last until Nicolai arrived in _Cloud Jumper_. He wanted things to be nice and quiet when they relieved him, so he could go after those invisible ships. But that was still an hour away.

"Commander Brother of Wolfe! The duchess and her aide have been captured, Divinely Marked One. Victory is ours!" a youthful Etti resistance fighter jubilantly exclaimed as he sprinted over the battlements of the wall. He couldn't have been older than fifteen. The boy had no business being a soldier!

Despite his dismay at the lad's lack of maturity, Harry allowed himself to smile. Boy Who Lived, Boy Who Defeated He Who Must Not Be Named, and now Brother of Wolfe. For some reason his real name hadn't stuck with the resistance. They kept calling him Brother of Wolfe or Divinely Marked One.

"What's your name, son?"

The raven-haired boy blinked, surprised that a commander was interested in knowing his name. "My name is Ash, Divinely Marked One."

"Don't call me that. Commander will do fine."

The lad's green eyes sparkled with hero worship. This was worse than dealing with the Creevey brothers used to be. "Yes, Commander."

"So tell me, Ash. Did they find the duchess's inventor, Yamato?"

"No, Commander. We asked _her_, but she refuses to speak."

Harry knew that _her_ meant the duchess. He bit back a groan. Not finding Yamato had been only hitch in the entire operation. Now he had to cope with a terrible uncertainty, for Yamato was like a head that could grow a new body. Even though he had been reduced to whatever tools he kept in his escape craft, it still meant that he could start over somewhere else and become quite dangerous with the passage of time. The head needed to be crushed.

"Where is she being kept?"

"The ballroom, with the other prisoners."

Harry promptly walked to the nearest guardhouse and created a doorway to a guest chamber he knew to be exactly above the ballroom. He had chosen not to make a doorway to the ballroom itself because he didn't think it prudent to reveal his gift to the enemy just yet, in the unlikely event that the tables could still somehow be turned. After stepping through, he descended through the floor and came out of the ballroom's ceiling. No one noticed his presence until he had dropped to eye level. The two hundred or so prisoners emitted collective gasps. About seventy-five were palace guards, and the rest appeared to be support staff common to palaces. Only a young, silently sobbing Etti girl sitting at the edge of the group hadn't noticed him. She wore a stained, formless beige dress that was threadbare in some places, and her greasy red hair and the scent of food about her suggested that she was a scullery maid. The freshest stains on her dress came from the blood dripping out of her nose. He floated over to her before solidifying and kneeling down in front of her.

"Don't be afraid," he said, as she tried to crawl away. "I won't hurt you. Why are you bleeding? Tell me the truth," he added after sensing her hesitation caused by her fear.

"I was struck," she said quietly.

"By one of my soldiers." It was a statement, not a question. Harry had plucked the information from her mind. "Why?"

"I wasn't walking quickly enough."

"Because your foot is injured." Again, Harry had taken the information from her mind. A sharp poultry bone lying on the kitchen floor had pierced the thin sole of her simple footwear.

"Yes," she whimpered. "Please don't punish me."

Instead of answering, Harry cast a Cleansing Charm to clear away the blood. Then he cast a Numbing Charm to take away her pain, before employing Bone-setting Charm to return her broken nose to its original state and used his magical vision to check his handiwork. A Healing Charm quickly repaired the fractures and took away most of the bruising in her face, causing him to take note of her bright brown eyes. Then he looked at her foot, which had the beginnings of an infection. She needed a potion for that.

"How does you face feel?" he asked.

"Better," she answered uncertainly, not quite knowing what to think of Harry's kindness.

"Are you a slave?"

She slowly shook her head, as if she weren't completely certain that her negative answer was the right one. Harry decided to ask some questions that might clarify her status.

"What are your parents' occupations?"

"My father is the chief of my village, Anós. My mother is a healer."

A village chief and a healer were people who enjoyed a certain amount of respect in a community. They were hardly the type of people to send their daughter off to become a scullery maid, and that contradiction prompted the next question, "Why are you in Astirian? Your parents didn't support the way the duchess ran things, did they? You're a hostage of sorts, aren't you?"

She cast a frightened glance over his shoulder, and Harry turned to follow her gaze. The vulture-like duchess was glaring at them.

"Never mind that ugly carrion bird," he said firmly. "Her reign is over. She and her ilk will face justice soon enough. Now, which soldier struck you? Is he here?"

The girl scanned the ballroom and quickly found who she had been looking for. He was a burly and unpleasant-looking Etti with metallic blue-ish hair, betrayed the presence of Jann blood. Harry could tell at once that he hadn't joined the resistance for idealistic reasons. Most likely he had committed some crimes that had forced him into hiding, and the only reason he hadn't sold out his resistance cell was because it wouldn't have been enough to get him pardoned.

Harry rose from his kneeling position and beckoned the man over.

"Which part of Emperor Savin's edict not to harm any non-combatants didn't you understand? Or did your group leader neglect to mention it?" he asked, after the man had drawn to within ten feet.

"She resisted," the man lied.

"My word against hers. That's what you're thinking, right? That as long as you stick to your story, your claim can't be disproved. _Right?_ Normally you'd have been right, but unfortunately for you, this commander can read minds," Harry growled, exacting some grim satisfaction form the man's paling face.

He had been afraid of this. Though this man was simply a malicious bastard, other resistance troops could also decide to vent their frustration on their captives sooner or later. In their eagerness to bring justice to their former oppressors, the sudden power they enjoyed quickly corrupted the formerly oppressed, making them every bit as brutal as those who had brutalised them in the past. Thinking that perhaps a burning example would curb any future temptation to indulge themselves, Harry gazed down at the man's crotch and shot a pair of incendiary spells out of his eyes.

The man roared, first in panic, and then in pain as the flames burned consumed the fabric and reached the flesh.

"Don't help him!" Harry bellowed, freezing a soldier who had been hurrying towards him with a heavy cloak in his hands. "There is a fountain in the next room. Let him try to reach it on his own." Then he turned and swept his gaze across the other resistance soldiers. "Remember what you've seen, and spread the word. Abuse a non-combatant, and you will be punished. _Lie_ about it, and the Brother of Wolfe will personally burn down your branch of the family tree. And if the wrongdoer is female, I'll think of something else.

"I know that there will be times where captives will _really_ resist—unlike what was the case _here_—and it isn't my intention to tie your hands," Harry continued in a milder tone. "If that happens, you need to be able do what is necessary to subdue them. But I can tell when excessive force has been used, so don't use it."

Then he fixed his gaze on the duchess. "Where is Yamato?"

She didn't answer verbally, but Harry could tell that her silence came from ignorance as much as it came from defiance.

Harry heaved a sigh of annoyance. "Of course you don't know where he is. He must have fled as soon as he knew something was amiss. He always _has_ been the first rat to flee a sinking ship."

"You have no hope of holding this city," the duchess hissed. "You are too few in number."

"Ah yes, the troops aboard the invisible ships you thought were going to follow us back to our camps," Harry replied, sensing her thoughts about their return. "They'll be dealt with shortly. You've lost, _Your Grace_." He put mocking emphasis on the title. He knew he shouldn't have been behaving this way, but he couldn't ignore the fact that she was chiefly responsible for giving Yamato the resources to build the weapon that ended up killing Wolfe.

"What are you going to do with me?" the duchess asked, sounding much more subdued all of a sudden. With her power stripped away, she was nothing but a frightened woman. The ease with which her stronghold had fallen must have shaken her to the core.

"The resistance obviously wants your head on plate," Harry replied casually. "Can you give them a reason to change their minds? I wouldn't bother appealing to their sense of compassion. Hell will freeze over before they'll feel any compassion for you. Your only safe bet would be to offer them something they need, like co-operation from your loyalists. But you don't have any true loyalists, do you? Because you've ruled through fear and division."

"Commander Brother of Wolfe!" Ash came running into the ballroom, skidding to a stop in front of Harry. "Sir." The lad gasped, trying to catch his breath. "Prince Matthew of The Black Griffin wishes an audience with you."

"An audience?" Harry asked laconically. "I doubt it. I think he just want to talk to me in the good old informal way. Where is he?"

"On the battlements of the western wall, Commander. He was coming down when you left me there."

"Right." Harry glanced at the scullery maid. "Ash, would you help … I'm sorry, I forgot to ask your name."

"Xania."

"Ash, would you help Xania—"

"Little Xania? Daughter of Elan the healer and Dorf the sheriff?" The lad stared intently at the girl.

Xania's eyes widened as she recognised the boy. "Ash?"

Harry smiled. "I take it you two know each other?"

"He was my neighbour. His father was Chieftain of Anós before my father—but I thought you were killed along with your parents, seven summers ago."

"I'm afraid a more elaborate reunion will have to wait," Harry told them both, then turned to Ash. "Help her up and follow me." Then he spun around, stunning the duchess with twin stunners from his eyes and following up with _Mobilicorpus_.

Keeping a mental grasp on the unconscious duchess, he gestured for Ash to follow him. Harry had expected the lad to be supporting the girl, but instead he had her cradled in his arms, and she had her arms firmly around his neck. Once out of sight of the captives, Harry opened a doorway to Floriath. Xania inhaled sharply as she saw it unfold.

"Well, carry her over the threshold, son." Harry fought to keep a smirk off his face. "Take her to the healers so they can treat her injured foot."

"But aren't I needed here?" Ash asked.

"I also need you to find Princess Patrinia while you're there. I'm sure she'd like to know how things have gone. Don't worry, I'll return for you later." Harry slid the band of rank Patrinia had given him off his arm offered it to Xania, since Ash had his hands full. "If they don't take you seriously, show them this."

The boy swelled up with pride. "Yes, Commander."

After the boy was gone, Harry opened up a doorway that would take him to one of the guardhouses along the western wall. The resistance fighters were momentarily startled, but relaxed when they realised what was going on. He levitated the duchess through the doorway before stepping through himself. Then he made his way to where Anzu was perched on the wall, with the duchess floating behind him like a marionette without strings.

"Is that her?" Matt called from the armoured recesses of Anzu.

Harry nodded. "Yes it is."

"What happened to the kid I sent to fetch you? I told him to come back. I had some more errands for him."

Harry heaved a sigh. "He ran into his Ginny. She was a scullery maid, and a hostage of sorts. Her parents were the leaders of a village, and I guess her _service_ here was an excuse to keep her parents in line."

"His _Ginny_?" Matt's tone of voice sounded quite amused.

"She had red hair and brown eyes, all right? It was a slip of the tongue. I miss Ginny," he sighed.

"You haven't been apart _that_ long."

"Every additional day apart is a day too much. Now drop it! I need you to do something for me."

"Name it."

"Stand on this wall while holding her in one of Anzu's claws. That ought to distract anyone who might be plotting a counterattack."

Matt laughed. "Sort of like King Kong, eh?"

"I wouldn't know. Dudley never let me see any films he thought I'd enjoy."

"Well, hand her over then." Anzu's left arm extended towards Harry and the clawed hand opened with only the slightest metallic creak. When the duchess was securely held, Harry countered the stunner, and she regained consciousness.

"Why have you brought me here?" she asked nervously.

"Fresh air and sunshine," Harry replied sarcastically. "No, we're putting you on display as a reminder to future generations that some things come at too high a price."

She visibly swallowed. "Will you drop me?"

"That would be letting you get off easy," Matt said. "You've created a society based on slavery, and now you'll be held accountable by the former slaves."

"I'm off to see Nicolai about tying up those loose ends now," Harry said to Matt.

"All right, mate."

Harry turned on his heel and headed back toward the guardhouse, to create a doorway while unobserved. He was about to enter when a distant, thundering roar told him that something was amiss. He took off and accelerated towards the origin of the sound. A plume of dust was rising in the air, and he saw that it was caused by a steady collapse of abandoned mining quarries a mile or two outside the city.

Harry knew that such an extensive collapse couldn't have happened without some abnormal stimuli to induce it. Reports from resistance spies had all testified that the tunnels had been in good condition. Smelling a rat, Harry activated his enhanced vision, hoping to catch a residue of the magic that had collapsed the tunnels, if indeed magic had been responsible. Instead he saw the silhouette of a flying ship rapidly moving away from the site. It looked almost exactly like the one he and Wolfe had wrecked, though it was only about one quarter the size.

Harry's heart leapt into throat as he realised that it had to be Yamato, and memories of Heidi's anguished sobs resurfaced in his mind, making his blood boil. She had been so close to happiness, only to have it torn away, tearing up her soul, which had already been strained. He thought about Sissi and the boys, who would never have the chance to really know their father. Then there were the thousands of nameless people whose lives Yamato had directly or indirectly wrecked. The bastard was responsible for the deaths of wizards and Muggles alike in the Earth Realm, and a dozen or so races in the Mirror Realm. He owed it to all of them to stop Yamato once and for all.

Rendering himself intangible, he took off, aiming slightly ahead of the ship on a rough intercept course. He truly longed to obliterate the ship with its maker in it. Doing so could easily be interpreted as self-defence, since Yamato's continued existence was a threat to everyone, much like Voldemort had been. However, a tiny part of him rejected those grim thoughts and remained anchored in the truth. With Voldemort, he'd had no choice. Fate had decided that Harry had to be the one. And while he had destroyed plenty of vampires in his time as a Ranger, their destruction had been carefully debated beforehand and approved by a large number of people. But if he killed Yamato—at least, without first exhausting every other alternative—it would be voluntary. He would have taken the right to kill into his own hands, and no matter how much Yamato deserved to die, it would still be murder.

With that thought firmly entrenched into his mind and keeping his rage in check, he turned himself invisible so as not to give Yamato any unnecessary advantages. His anticipation grew as he closed in, and even though he didn't strictly have a heart in his intangible from, he imagined it to be pounding faster. The magic burned inside him, barely restrained, ready to be unleashed.

He slowed to allow the ship to pass before turning in pursuit. The ship was fast, but Harry's intangibility meant that he could fly much faster than anything subjected to aerodynamics. Then, just as he thought he was about to pass through the ship's hull, he crashed into a magical shield. After recovering from the shock, he immediately berated himself for not linking the fact that he still wasn't able to see into the bridge at very close range to the interference caused by a magical shield.

During his experimentation with the boundaries of his intangibility, Harry had noticed that it didn't completely protect him from magic, so he had always avoided being a target, lest a stray Killing Curse come his way. Stunners dazed him as they passed through him, and other hexes also minimally affected him, though his inner magic always reversed those effects in a fraction of a second. For obvious reasons, he had never experimented with the Killing Curse. Harry knew this magical shield had to be extremely powerful to have repelled him like that. Penetrating a Cruiser's shield—also during experiments with his powers—had been hard enough, but it hadn't kept him out.

He put some extra energy into vision and was rewarded with pieces of the inside of the bridge through the powerful magical interference, and he caught Yamato grinning with satisfaction. The Japanese wizard knew about Harry's intangibility, and probably about his invisibility as well. He had probably deduced that Harry had been the impact on the shields.

Seconds later, Harry saw rapid pulses of magic beginning to flash out from the ship and envelop him. Before he could begin to wonder what they were for, he noticed the changing of the ship's profile. The spindly hind 'legs' of the ship stretched and curved backwards. He saw the magic gathering at their tips, and he reflexively dodged downwards. A pair of bright energy spheres the size of bowling balls missed him by only a few feet, and they were barely past him when the legs swivelled to his new, lower position and fired another pair of energy spheres.

He realised that the pulses had to be emanating from a very sophisticated magic detection artefact, and again he berated himself for not anticipating that a magical artificer as brilliant as Yamato had means of detection equal to those of the Order of Illumination.

Keeping his flight erratic, he maintained the pursuit, trying to work out how to tackle the situation. It was impossible to make a doorway into the ship's bridge. The interference hadn't allowed him to see enough of the bridge to construct a mental picture. There was nothing else for it. He had to attack the ship and hammer it until the shields went down.

Harry drew on his magic, preparing to hit the ship with double Reductor Curses. He allowed the power to build until it felt like his head was about to explode. Then he let loose with what could very well have been the most powerful Reductor Curse ever performed. The shield glowed pink where the curse struck it, but it didn't break. It did weaken somewhat, allowing him to see inside the bridge a little better. He managed to get a glimpse of Yamato again even though he was busy dodging the energy spheres. The bastard didn't appear to be worried about the shields collapsing any time soon. Unfortunately, having to make evasive manoeuvres had also prevented Harry from getting a good enough look to create a doorway, but another idea presented itself. With the shields weakened, perhaps he would be able to penetrate.

He darted forward, but was immediately punished by one of the two energy spheres shooting through his body with the other one barely missing. He knew he wasn't physically injured, but the pain he felt now dwarfed the pain he had felt during his experimentations with the Cruciatus Curse on his intangible form. As with all spells, its effectiveness had been reduced. But this almost felt like being hit with the curse while solid.

When the pain blanketing his senses had finally subsided, Harry found that the ground was suddenly a lot closer. He pulled out of his involuntary dive, and the manoeuvre saved him from more suffering as it caused another two spheres to shoot beneath him, passing through the space he should have been occupying and going on to hit the ground, creating a pair of enormous explosions. He sent a silent prayer to the 'Powers that Be' for that bout of fortune, and at the same time he cursed his own recklessness. A target was easier to hit the closer it got, and Harry had completely forgotten about that in his enthusiasm to execute his plan.

Harry felt another dire consequence of Yamato's successful attack. The magic it had taken to purge the lingering effects of the energy sphere had significantly reduced his reserve, and panic began to set in as his brain focussed the increasing implications of this. The weapons that had been firing at Harry so far were probably the only ones that could cover the stern of the ship, but Harry had a hunch that each of the legs running along the flanks of the ship harboured a weapon of some sort. If Yamato brought all those weapons to bear on Astirian—or if its detectors discovered _Cloud Jumper _like they had discovered Harry in spite of his invisibility…

Yamato had to be stopped, and it was up to Harry to do it! If he failed, Yamato would destroy _Cloud Jumper _and its occupants. With Nicolai gone, nothing would stop him from taking over Astirian, Shamballah, and eventually the rest of the Mirror Realm. And with the Mirror Realm under his control, he'd probably set his sights on the Earth Realm too. If that happened, a terrible fate wait await all of Harry's loved ones.

With a new resolve fuelled by an increasing sense of desperation, Harry summoned magic from the very core of his being as he began to pursue Yamato's ship once more. He suspended his invisibility—since it didn't do him any good under the circumstances—and channelled the extra available power into a build-up for a new attack.

He kept bobbing up, down, left and right as unpredictably as possible as he closed with the ship's stern, always keeping his eyes locked on target, the power inside him growing and growing. Then, when he was close enough, he let loose with his attack. The shields glowed pink at the impact point and began to weaken again, but after fifteen seconds of this, Harry knew that he might not have enough reserves to keep that up until they collapsed. With that thought haunting the back of his mind, he decided to tap into the magic that sustained him in his intangible form.

His decision immediately took its toll, and Harry began to feel like he was being suffocated. But the effect made it worth it, because the power of his attack tripled. He held on even as darkness began to nibble at the edge of his consciousness. He couldn't allow himself to fail!

Then the shields suddenly gave away. They failed too suddenly and too completely for Harry—his mind sluggish due to deprivation of the magic that was normally used to sustain him during intangibility—to shut off his ocular attack in time. The twin Reductor Curses vaporised the bridge and continued into the centre of the ship, reaching the power core and causing a violent reaction. Harry banked sharply to avoid the debris, before slowing down and watching the largest remaining chunks plummet to the ground.

A wave of exhaustion swept over Harry, and he began a barely controlled descent to the Astirian landscape. Tangible once more, his knees buckled as he touched down, and he fell forward, preventing a collapse with a pair of shaking arms. Then he sat back on his haunches and looked up at the smallest burning remains of the ship tracing smoky lines in the sky as they fluttered down.

For what could have been mere minutes, or possibly an hour, he simply sat there, numb with shock. Then the enormity of what had just happened caught up with him, and Harry felt something inside him snap, discharging all kinds of pent up emotions. Annoyance about accidentally killing Yamato, but mostly relief because of his death. A wave of guilt loomed up, threatening to overcome the sense of relief. Had he committed murder? He _had_ considered the possibility before he'd begun his attack on Yamato's ship. Perhaps he had subconsciously—no, it had really been an accident. He had been fighting off unconsciousness when the ship blew up. He had been in no shape to stop his ocular attack in time to spare Yamato. His choice of tactics _had_ led to Yamato's death, but it hadn't been his _goal_, and therein laid the difference.

"It's over," Harry said aloud, his voice hoarse and shaking.

And it was. Justice had been done. Wolfe, and all the other people whose deaths Yamato had been responsible for—either directly or indirectly—had been avenged.

With quite a bit of effort, Harry forced himself onto his feet. Destroying the ship had taken a lot out of him—though the shaking might have been caused by emotions—and he hoped that the troop carriers the duchess had sent out weren't as tough as Yamato's ship had been.

Using the last of his magic reserves, he opened a doorway to _Cloud Jumper_ and stepped through.

Aberforth was the first of the cabin's occupants to notice him. "Harry!"

"What's the status in Astirian?" Nicolai asked immediately.

"Really, Nick, can't you see he's exhausted?" Mary cast a reproachful look at her husband as she made her way over to Harry with large steps. "Here, sit down." She guided him to a leather loveseat, and feeling light-headed, he allowed her to. Then she turned to Nicolai again. "Make yourself useful and get him some of that nice Qoi milk."

Nicolai heaved a sigh of resignation. "Yes, dear."

Everyone knew not to argue with Mary when she saw a tired animal that needed care, and while Mary mopped tears he hadn't even known were there from his face, Harry didn't know whether to be insulted or flattered that the sight of him had made her instincts kick in. He chose the latter, but felt too tired to smile gratefully.

When Nicolai returned, Harry gratefully accepted the mug and took a sip. As the liquid slid down his throat, Harry felt his exhaustion diminish. He quickly downed the rest, and felt much better when he handed to mug back to Nicolai.

"_Now_ can I talk to him?" Nicolai asked his wife.

"The city is fine. Everything went according to plan. We captured the Duchess of Astirian, and the reason I came in so tired was because I had to use most of my magic reserves to crack the shield of Yamato's ship. He fled in an invisible ship. I think it was built in the quarries."

"You caught Yamato?" Aberforth asked excitedly.

Harry smiled ruefully. "Not exactly. I was pouring so much power into taking down the shield that I overdid it. My curse vaporised the bridge and went on to the power core in half a heartbeat. The ship was confetti before I realised what I'd done. I'm sorry. I truly didn't intend to kill him."

Nicolai shrugged. "It's okay. I know powerful magic can't simply be shut off in the blink of an eye. I would have preferred to drag him back to the Earth Realm for trial, but he would probably have been executed in the end, so it makes little difference."

"You know, if those other ships are as tough as Yamato's, I won't be able to tackle them today. That milk did wonders, but I need to rest if I'm to recharge. Maybe it would be easier if I caught them with their shields down, but I don't have the reserves to overcome them if I didn't."

"I doubt those troop carriers are as powerful as Yamato's own ship. Either way, with Yamato dead, that's not a priority anymore." Nicolai patted Harry on the shoulder. "You've earned yourself a little rest, Commander."

* * *

**Gogirl**: Aye, he was rather lordly, wasn't he?

**Sheila**: Sorry. No more miraculous comebacks for Wolfe in this fic.

**Shadowfire**:

1) Ironheart and Thetis weren't being particularly loud, and Harry didn't stop to listen before plunging through.

2) The whole point of the Mind Reading solution was to side-step issues. I don't want any Iraq-like situations, which is what you inevitably get without the ability to sort the bad from innocent. And it isn't unconvincing; it's magic!

3) I think you misunderstood what I was trying to say in Chapter 23. Because a tiny part of him expected to survive, the self-sacrifice protection _didn't_ kick in for him, no matter how resigned the rest of him was to his death. And with EFFECT I meant _exactly_ like a normal Killing Curse, right up to and including being unblockable by magic. SO it _is_ one enormous Killing Curse.

No loopholes, no miraculous comebacks for Wolfe anymore in this fic.

**hootild**: The poor boy needed to get laid in order to think better. ;-) As for Matt, he already stinking rich, and he'll only get richer.

**blah29**: I'm almost afraid that the final fight scene was a bit anticlimactic.

**JakeTheSheepy**: Sorry. No power transfers, and no free rides into Super Sorceror-hood for Harry.

**Lady of Masbolle**: Thanks

**Magsluvsaragorn**: Glad you enjoyed it.

**Lipton**: I hope it lived up to your expectations.

**Pauline**: The pat on the back is greatly appreciated.


	30. Rest and Relaxation

Chapter 30

**Rest and Relaxation**

It was finally over. He had spent far too much time monitoring the remaining vampires and mapping out shady goings on within the magical government of the United States.

Finding the vampires had been made much easier with The Confessor's ability to sense any other vampire up to two thousand miles away. Madame Isabelle and The Confessor's three elder 'children' had also pitched in by temporarily joining up with the Rangers and circling the globe in the Cruisers until the last of the rogue vampires had been found.

The Order never did find the Auror's body, but by interrogating the vampires they had at least discovered his fate. A one-way Portkey had transported his body to shark-infested waters in the Pacific Ocean. As the Order had already suspected, he hadn't lived through the day the vampires had caught him. At least the lad's relatives finally had some closure now.

In one well co-ordinated operation, the last vampires had been caught, and Ling Woo was stunned during one of her rare ventures out of her lethal warehouse, prompted by information the Rangers had carefully leaked. A jewel-encrusted Firecrab shell had been too big of a temptation to pass up, after all.

Rachel Esklove shook her head. "No fewer than fifty-two traps spread throughout the building. But we're positive that we've found the last of them."

"Nasty old lady, wasn't she?" Sarah Esklove added with a smirk.

The two sisters had been one of the five Intelligence/Artificer couples that had been combing out Ling Woo's final hideout. It had taken three days to completely secure the old warehouse in Hong Kong, in which the teams had discovered and disarmed trap after trap. As far as Ron was concerned, she had thoroughly earned the name Vicious Ling, and not only on account of the traps. Hunting her had taken almost exactly a year, and during that time he had been forced to miss Christmas, all three of his children's birthdays, and his and Hermione's wedding anniversary. And their anniversary in particular had caused a lot of friction between Ron and Hermione, since he had spent it working on this case with Sarah in one of the Order's safe houses in the United States. Just the two of them, all alone.

Ron had believed his wife to be self-confident enough to cope with it, but in hindsight he knew he hadn't correctly estimated the impact their long separation—and some other factors—must have had on their relationship. One of the others factors was that he'd spent a great deal of the time away from his family with Sarah, and he had forged a fairly strong bond of friendship with her during that time. He had learned that the two of them had a lot in common.

Sarah was passionate about Quidditch—a trait a surprising number of witches in the Order of Illumination seemed to share—and fiercely loyal to her local team. She liked chess and other strategic games, and had a sweet tooth that easily rivalled his. Like Hermione, she was also quite argumentative, unafraid to voice her opinion on matters or situations she thought ought to be different—which was something he both loved and hated about his wife. She was obsessive about efficiency and performance and a stickler for the rules … unless they_ really_ had to be broken. Sarah was like a Hermione with some Ron-like traits, and Hermione had noticed it as well, probably much sooner than Ron had. But it shouldn't have been enough reason to let Hermione feel threatened.

'_Be honest with yourself, Ronald!_' his mother's voice echoed in Ron's mind. It was the voice of reason in its purest form, and it forced Ron to admit that—while he loved Hermione very much and would never ever do anything to hurt her—Hermione's insecurity wasn't completely baseless. Sarah certainly didn't turn heads wherever she went, but she was far from ugly. Coupled to the fact that their work had brought them closer together, and that they had had sex earlier—even though _that_ had been an accident—he could understand Hermione's feelings.

Ron sighed, pulled off the fabric covered elastic band he'd used to tie his hair back, and ran his hand through his loosened hair.

"Something wrong?" Sarah's voice rang, penetrating the veil of thoughts.

As Ron met her concerned gaze, he knew that Hermione's insecurity definitely had a firm foundation. Sarah's feelings for him went beyond friendship, and if he hadn't been happily married, he probably would have reciprocated, too. The sexual tension had been almost palpable at times.

"Rachel, could you please leave us alone for a minute?"

The Artificer Esklove sister shot him a knowing look before Apparating away to a rendezvous spot and leaving him alone with Sarah.

"You know, don't you?" Sarah immediately said after her sister had left.

"You're very intelligent and talented, and you're not exactly repulsive. We have a lot in common, and I'd be lying if I said that I didn't feel attracted to you. But I'm not in love with you. I love, and I'm _in_ love with Hermione. I know that falling in love isn't something one has control over. I don't harbour any bad feelings towards you because of it. In fact, it's rather flattering that a great woman like you deems a bloke like me worthy of your affection. I also respect you for not making any advances towards me in the moments of tension we've experienced. Many weaker women would have tried to seduce a man in a similar situation.

"I've heard that Faust wants to partner us up on a more permanent basis because we've worked so well together," Ron continued after a few silent seconds. "I don't think it would be a good idea. I want to give you the time and space to get over me. That wouldn't work if we kept seeing a lot of each other, would it?"

Sarah gulped. "I'm sorry." Ron conjured a handkerchief and dried the tears that were rolling down her face. "You'll be all right. I'm sure a nice bloke will notice you one of these days."

"If you say so," Sarah replied sullenly. "I don't have any trouble attracting men, but none of them are any good."

"Really? What about the bloke that took over Concordia Elementary School three years ago—Principal Sconner. What went wrong there? He seemed like a decent enough bloke."

"_Seymour?"_ Sarah snorted. "His mommy won't let him come out to play! Besides, he had a problem with the life I have to lead on account of being a Ranger. He said it was too dangerous."

That was a common reason why many relationships a Ranger started with a non-Ranger didn't work out, and why most of them got married only after retiring. Being married to another Ranger was also quite challenging at times, but both partners having accepted the danger into their lives made things easier.

"What about Mordecai? His wife left him because she thought the job was too dangerous, which gives you something in common. He's a Ranger, and he's Jewish too. What more could you want?"

His suggestion appeared to amuse Sarah, and she managed a smile. "Really, you're beginning to sound like my mother's friend, Yentl. She fancies herself a matchmaker. If it's human, male, Jewish, and has a steady income, she thinks it's a match."

"So what's wrong with Mordecai?"

"He's still officially married to his wife. He loves her, and he's trying to get her back. The poor man can't see that the only reason the shrew isn't asking for divorce is because his parents made her sign a type of pre-nup. They're well off, and they immediately saw her for the gold-digger she is."

Hermione had once explained that Muggle marriage was a lot less sacred than it used to be, and that people often kept what they had prior to the union separated, in case the marriage broke up later. "Isn't that a Muggle thing?"

"Caleb and Esther are both half-Muggle half-bloods, and they grew up among Muggles, so that's might be why it was done. Really, the only reason she's concerned for his well-being is because his survivor's fund goes straight to their child if something happens to him."

"You're awfully well informed," Ron remarked slyly.

Sarah had the grace to blush. "It's not like I didn't _consider_ him. After all, he _is_ male, Jewish—my mother would be thrilled about that—and has a steady income." She got a faraway look in her eyes. "He's also got a great set of arms and a high, tight butt."

Ron clamped his hand over his ears. "I didn't want to hear that."

Sarah pulled his hands off his ears. "Sorry. I got carried away. But it's a good sign. If I'm drooling over men, it means that I'll be okay."

"Now _that _I am glad to hear. Good luck," Ron said, and turned to leave.

"Ron?"

Ron stopped and turned to face her again. "Yeah?"

"Thanks for letting me down easy."

"You're welcome."

"Now go home and show Hermione how lucky she is."

"That'll have to wait. I'll be home just in time to attend the inauguration of the monstrosity Matt's had built. If Kovalenko doesn't keep me in debriefing too long, I should be there right in time for T-bone tucker."

"Oh yes, the tree house!" Sarah giggled. "Rachel told me it's really very nice."

By now, everyone had heard the tear-jerking story of how little Xander consented to a transfusion for Rosie, thinking that it would kill him. So when the lad asked his father to build him a tree house for Christmas, Matt had readily consented, However, as wizards with far too much gold to spend tended to do, Matt got carried away. Consequently, what was supposed to have been a simple tree-house on one of the fields Matt owned outside the city had turned into a four-floor behemoth supported by eight very realistic-looking giant sequoia trees made from some kind of Mirror Realm mineral.

He had received a tour through the unfinished house while on a brief visit a few months ago, and the first thing he had noticed was the vast space the four circular floors had. Starting at a hundred and fifty feet and ending at just under two hundred, they had a diameter of one hundred and forty feet, and a combined area of over sixty-one thousand square feet. That was over ten thousand square feet for Matt, Gudrun, and the four children still living with them. Ron wondered why on earth Matt needed so much space.

"Rachel told me that Gudrun wasn't very happy about it at first," Sarah continued. "She said she didn't want to live in something that looks like a theme park attraction. Somehow, though, she changed her mind overnight. Rachel thinks Matt convinced her by providing enough material to fill a dozen Pink Kneazle booklets."

Ron believed it. Both Matt and Gudrun had often professed to solve must of their problems with a good shag. He wondered if that course of action would help him with Hermione. At the very least, he was going to have to make an effort to spend some quality time with her. He resolved to badger Irina into giving Hermione some time off.

* * *

"I intend to turn Caer Sidi back into a museum," Matt said, while he flipped an enormous T-bone steak over on a grill and applied his secret sauce. "That's why I made myself some more room here."

Ginny suppressed a grin while she exchanged glances with the other people clustered around the grill. 'Some more room' was an enormous understatement.

The tree house was such an exquisite feat of architecture and magical crafting that it made her artificer's heart beat a little faster. The eight 'trees' that supported the house were made of cirdian, which was a magical mineral that was as versatile as the metal umbranium, though it wasn't nearly as rare as umbranium. With the proper magical preparation it became virtually indestructible, which was why Nicolai had suggested its usage. The north tree and the south tree were actually hollow, each accommodating stairs and a levitation surface. Due to their hollowness, they were reinforced by enchanted steel. Matt had initially wanted umbranium, but had been dissuaded from trying to buy some by his son-in-law, on grounds of the metal's relative rarity.

While the tree house was covered in moss and vines on the outside, it looked like a palace on the inside. The first floor had floors and walls of marble and displayed several trinkets Matt had brought over from the Caer Sidi vault. However, that decoration could be removed and replaced by whatever was needed when Matt and Gudrun planned to entertain a large number of guests. Large windows at regular intervals offered beautiful views of the lake, fields, hills, and city, and four lavatories inconspicuously placed within four of the fake tree trunks ensured that no guest had to wait long to go to the loo, even when there were a few hundred of them.

A stairwell in the centre of the room led up to the second floor, which held the main kitchen, dining area, library, and an entertainment area for family and friends. That same stairwell continued up into the third floor where the enormous master bedroom and six smaller ones for the children and guests were located—each with their own bathing and toilet facilities. A peek into Matt and Gudrun's bathroom with gilded water taps had left Ginny really envious.

Finally there was the top floor that had a two-part roof, one half being able to slide over the other one to expose the pool and two Jacuzzis when desired. Matt's own barbecue platform and a bar were under the permanent part of the roof, and judging from Matt's current enthusiasm and his general love for barbecues, Ginny had a feeling that the grill would see a lot of use.

Then there were the myriad of complex wards protecting the tree house, including a ward that prevented magically powered flight in a radius of a thousand feet around the house. That one would be installed around the Ranger enclave in Concordia as well, though the Concordian authorities hadn't been too happy about the considerable restriction this would put on the city's air space. Of course, they became most understanding when Nicolai had voiced his disappointment about Shamballah's potential trading partners being so reluctant to provide a more secure living environment for his wife and daughter—who would soon move into Kelly's Keep.

"What I'd like to know is how much you paid the city officials to put a portal on your property," Hermione said. She looked tired, having had only a few hours of sleep after a night shift.

"Nothing at all. I've placed myself in a such position here in Concordia that the politicians can't simply ignore me. I can't believe I'm saying this, but Dad was right. Being filthy rich does have some advantages. And being Nicolai's father-in-law doesn't hurt either." He glanced at the pool, where Nicolai was playing with Oopsie in the shallow end, surrounded by many of the visiting children. Aside from Ginny, Hermione, Charlie and Jasmine, and Gavin and Mayumi, the Montoyas and their four children had been invited too. If the Ramos' and the Fausts hadn't been out of town visiting relatives, it would have been even more crowded.

Heidi was present as well, sitting down in eighteen inch high water with Ron Junior, who was almost fourteen months now. Heidi looked so natural with Ron Junior in her arms that someone who didn't know any better could easily assume that she was the mother. Mary was a bit farther away, sitting in one of the Jacuzzis with Matt's cousin Wendy and her enormous mother, Betty. At six-foot-two, Matt's aunt was an inch taller that both her daughter and grandniece, and her bust-line was indeed every bit as impressive as rumoured. It was difficult to tell how impressive exactly—at least, not without a tape-measure—but it had to be forty-five plus. It was hard to believe that Betty was the _small _one, and that Matt's other aunt was even more generously endowed. Ginny wondered how their backs handled all that weight.

Shifting her attention back to Nicolai, Ginny was happy to see him so relaxed and carefree. Harry had told her about some of the difficult decisions Nicolai had been forced to make to keep the transformation of Astirian moving in the right direction, and the effects on Nicolai's psyche had been plain for everyone to see every time he put down the proverbial mask of leadership he was forced to wear at all times in the Mirror Realm.

Gavin sighed. "I'd better get this over with now."

"You don't have to," Mayumi said soothingly.

The small Welsh Ranger had returned from Japan to receive additional instructions regarding the Asian region, and Mayumi had decided to accompany him, brining along the children as well. They were as small as their parents, proportionally, dwarfed by other children their age, and even the children several years younger. Their eldest, Tatsuya, was a year and three months older than Richard, but Richard was quite a bit bigger.

"No, I promised your father and grandfather. I've got to at least ask."

"Promised them what?" Matt asked.

"To talk to Nicolai about an arranged marriage between Oprah and our second son, Taro," Mayumi responded for her husband. "I think it's nonsense. I want my children to be able to marry for love."

"That's very admirable," Hermione said, eagerly voicing her opinion on the matter.

"I'm going to play devil's advocate here, Mayumi. Do you really think that's a good idea?" Matt asked. "Your family's position is hereditary, so you've got to have good breeding. Now, nobody's perfect, but what if your child chooses someone who's _obviously_ a loser, despite all your education and best efforts to prevent that from happening? Do you put your foot down and forbid it?"

"I think that's something every parent is worried about, whether they have the good of a monarchy to worry about, or not," Hermione said.

"Touché," Matt acknowledged, and Gavin and Mayumi were nodding as well. "I guess Gudrun and I are pretty lucky," Matt continued. "Mary can be very difficult, so Nicolai's a gift from heaven. I don't think there are many men out there who an handle her idiosyncrasies as well as Nicolai can. And Robert's a good kid too. I hope Ginny's vision about him and Rachel comes true."

"It seems to be on track," Jasmine remarked slyly, glancing at the second Jacuzzi.

Ginny followed her gaze and saw that it was occupied by Robert, Rachel, Rosie, and Xander. Rosie had been including Xander in her and Rachel's group for the past two years, possibly because she had noticed that he didn't really fit in with any of the younger children and took pity on him. Nathan didn't include him when playing with Henry Wolfe and Michael Faust, deeming him too young. Richard and Raina were only six and seven months older than Xander was, but they had always been a tightly knit pair, and owing to the cut-off date they were now a year ahead of Xander in school. Tony Ramos and Inigo Montoya were only five months younger than Xander, and the three would start at Concordia Elementary this year. However, Xander was a highly intelligent little fellow, and his games were a bit too sophisticated for the other two. Besides, Tony and Inigo were almost as close as Richard and Raina, and they often spoke Spanish to one another, creating additional distance between them and Xander. It wasn't that Xander didn't get along with the four children who were the closest to him in age, but he didn't fit in seamlessly.

"They look very cosy together, don't they?" Matt said.

Charlie chuckled. "Robert and Rachel, or Rosie and Xander? Honestly Matt, the lad may be big for his age, but he's only six and a few months. How early do you Kellys bloom?"

That same thought had crossed Ginny's mind. Robert and Rachel were sitting very closely together, but Rosie was sitting in Xander's lap! Her behaviour clearly flustered Xander a little bit, but he didn't seem to find it entirely unpleasant.

"He can't help being a chick magnet. He's a chip off the old block."

"I think it's sweet," Jasmine said. "Rosie may be young, but the significance of Xander's consent to give her blood when he thought it would kill him wasn't completely lost on her. After I told her, it only took a few days for her to grow a crush. Xander's had a crush on _her_ ever since she allowed him to start tagging along."

"I do seem to remember him telling you during the transfusion that he was glad to help because Rosie's always been nice to him, Matt," Hermione said.

Matt beamed. "He did, didn't he?"

"Hey Xander! Having fun with your _girlfriend_?" Nathan called from the deep end of the pool.

"Shut it, Nathaniel!" Rosie shot back heatedly, as she climbed out of the Jacuzzi, The she strode over to the pool and glared at Nathan, who involuntarily drifted away from the edge of the pool to be out of range.

Rosie was very small for her age, standing exactly a half inch over four feet tall at age nine. Raina and Richard, who were nearly seven now, were already a bit taller than their older cousin. Even Xander, who was especially tall for his age—though that seemed to be the case with all the Kelly children, save Rachel, who took more after Gudrun and was just 'normally' tall for her age—was two inches taller than Rosie. She had likely inherited her small stature from Jasmine's mother, whom pictures had revealed to have been a tiny woman at a little over five feet, which was even smaller than Rosie's paternal grandmother. Like her paternal grandmother, however, Rosie showed traces of a wicked Napoleon complex, and even Robert was careful not to incur her wrath.

Nathan was a huge seven and a half year-old, but Rosie's withering glare—one that made her look remarkably like a sabre-toothed tiger—had sucked all the bravado out of him.

"Sorry Rosie," he mumbled.

"I'm not the one you owe an apology to."

"Sorry Xander."

Satisfied, Rosie returned to the Jacuzzi, settled on Xander's lap again, looped one arm around his neck, and said loud enough for everyone to hear, "Don't worry, he's just jealous."

"So Matt, are you paying for the honeymoon, or should I?" Charlie asked jokingly.

Everyone laughed at that.

"Whatever gave you the idea that I call the shots around here?" Matt retorted after the laughter had died down. "Ask the boss when she gets off work."

Ginny smiled. While Matt often spoke like Gudrun was the dominant wife who ran every aspect of his life with him just being along for the ride, it was actually a very equal relationship. One could even argue that Matt was the dominant one, since he could successfully curb Gudrun's flights of fancy more often than Gudrun could curb his. He never flat out refused Gudrun anything, but he was such a manipulative sweet talker that he often got her to change her mind. For instance, a month ago Gudrun had still been opposed to living in a tree-house, but somehow Matt had changed her mind overnight. Several Rangers claimed that both Gudrun and Matt had looked especially 'exhausted in a dreamy and sated kind of way' after said night, but she hadn't seen it for herself since she had been on a mission at the time.

"When _does_ Gudrun get off from work, Ginny?" Hermione asked. "She was already hard at work in the maintenance bay when my graveyard shift ended, so it can't be much longer."

"I'm not sure. As a lieutenant, she doesn't go on missions or work the graveyard shifts anymore unless she has no choice, but she _has_ to put in fifty-five instead of forty hours a week over six instead of five days. If today's the ten-hour one, she should be done in an hour. If not, she'll be finishing up right about now."

"Good, because I'm almost done here," Matt said.

* * *

"Welcome back, Mr Potter. How are things in the Mirror Realm?"

Harry was a bit surprised to see his greeter at the Umbral Gate complex. One would think that the Chief of the City Watch had better things to do. "Your insignia tells me that you're still the boss, so demotion is out. Is the City Watch so shorthanded that the chief herself has been pressed into customs duty?"

Peterson smiled. "A coincidence. I'm here for a surprise inspection. It helps to keep the constables on their toes."

Harry nodded. "It's always good to keep the troops on their toes." In fact, it was why he had gone to the Mirror Realm in the first place. Since stability in the Mirror Realm benefited the Earth Realm as well, he had spent six months after the re-conquest of Astirian City in the Mirror Realm, with Ginny and his children spending about a week every month in the Mirror Realm. To justify Ginny's week-long absences, she had been given the task of working for the Order of Illumination in the Mirror Realm, aiding Nicolai and the retired Ranger artificers with restoring _Cloud Jumper's_ sister ships and installing some powerful automated magical defences in Imperial Tower. Arranging something with Concordia Elementary for Richard's absences had been a bit tricky, but in the end Principal Sconner had agreed, as long as Richard received tutelage that would prevent him from falling behind. That tutelage had been provided by Quentin Hoover, an American ex-Ranger and old friend of Ironheart's who had been recruited into the Order at the same time. Officially he was one of Ironheart's administrative aides, but he had been able to spare a few hours every day for Richard. Aside from teaching Richard, he had also entertained Harry and Ginny with stories of Ironheart's younger years, and how Ironheart had left _him_ to sort out the feud he had caused between two particular British witches who later became Harry's teachers.

While Ginny had stayed in Shamballah, Harry had spent most of his time in Astirian, helping Nicolai's magistrates to unmask those who had done the most damage during the duchess's rule, and hunting down insurgents who attacked the occupation force in an attempt to bring back the duchess's system of rule, only with themselves instead of the duchess as the ruler. The latter had been a laborious task, hermetically sealing off areas where the insurgents had to be hiding and working their way inwards, scanning the minds of every man, woman, and even child, until the insurgents were caught.

Fortunately the technique had been as effective as it had been time-consuming, actually working even better than expected, initially. In the first month after the fall of Astirian City, most of the would-be insurgents had often been amateurs who didn't know the meaning of the word _decentralisation_. The capture of the first group of attackers led to information that allowed Harry to arrest hundreds of other insurgents in one massive operation. The insurgents _did_ get a little better in the second and third months after Astirian's fall, decentralising and creating cells, but since no cell ever managed to escape the forces maintaining the perimeter, they were always caught. By the sixth month, they had stopped trying to stir up trouble.

Harry knew better than to think this was because all the malcontents had been caught. They had stopped because they knew they couldn't get away with it. Some of the more bitter former resistance fighters had advocated a sweep of the city where no mind was left un-scanned, plucking out anyone who was seriously considering an insurgent attack and executing that person immediately. With a heavy heart, Nicolai had immediately made 'an example' of one of those former resistance fighters by striking him down with the Phoenix Katana. Then he had launched into an explanation, telling the others present that most of the insurgents were young people being duped by a minority of wily hate-mongers, and that the reason the insurgents heeded these hate-mongers was because they found themselves in the same boat the resistance fighters had also been in, until the recent social inversion. Nicolai—who had taken a dose of Mind Reading potion shortly before the incident—then revealed that the 'example' had been planning to go ahead with their suggestion even if he rejected it. He went on to confront another two leaders who had been planning the same thing, sparing their lives instead of making an examples out of them as well, thus turning the episode into a masterful object lesson in mercy and making the importance of offering people second chances painfully clear. The former resistance leaders certainly got the idea, realising that they would have been killed if Nicolai had done things the way they would have. As far as Harry knew, none of them had ever entertained thoughts about carrying out that harebrained plan ever again.

Still, it hardly seemed to compare favourably when he took into account the psychological stress that killing the resistance leader to make a point had caused poor Nicolai. It wasn't in the boy's nature to be brutal, and Harry certainly didn't envy his position. The idealist in him rebelled against the death of the resistance leader, but deep down he knew that it had been the only way for Nicolai to get his point across so thoroughly. It probably wouldn't have been enough to merely confront the resistance leaders about the thoughts in his head and leave it at a warning. The 'or else' factor in Nicolai's warning alone wouldn't have been able to pierce the haze of bitterness and hatred clouding their judgement. Worse, it would have made him appear weak at a critical time, which in turn could have meant the end of a unified group of resistance camps. Without that unity, occupying Astirian long enough for the re-education of its citizens to take root would have been impossible. No, Harry _definitely_ didn't want to be in Nicolai's shoes, and he hoped that the quality time Nicolai was now spending with Mary and Oopsie took some of the stress away.

"The rebuilding of Shamballah is accelerating every day, but Nicolai's decided to halt the production of magic gems for a while—at least, for use in the construction industry. He says the building capacity can't keep growing like it has."

Peterson seemed to understand. "He wants to prevent the market from growing too large too quickly and popping like a soap bubble when there's nothing left to restore. Clever! Sudden mass unemployment resulting from market collapses have had some nasty consequences in the past."

Harry nodded. "No one can accuse Nicolai of not having foresight. Sometimes it's pretty unnerving, actually."

"That's super-human intelligence for you. Anyway, what about some juicy gossip? I heard that the Mirror Realm air is causing Donovan Ironheart to experience a second youth."

"You never ask a leading question without having an inkling of the answer, Chief Peterson. I could peek into your mind to find out, but I'll do the polite thing and _ask_ you what you're fishing for."

"It's about his cook."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yes, she really is pregnant with his child."

Peterson shook her head in disbelief. "Becoming a father of an infant again at his age. Imagine that."

"It makes for a pretty complicated family tree, too," Harry muttered, more to himself than to Peterson, but she caught his words anyway.

"How so?"

"Take the Wolfe boys, for instance. Will the newborn be their first cousin, or their great-uncle or aunt? They're already interrelated with many of Weasley children through both lines, because Charlie and Jasmine are third cousins. So they're both first cousins through Wolfe and Jasmine, and fourth cousins through Wolfe and Charlie. Then there's Galatea's link to Fleur Delacour—now Fleur Weasley. Galatea was Fleur's cousin, so the Wolfe boys are second cousins to Fleur's kids. But they're also fourth cousins through Bill and Wolfe. Now, normally the closest link between blood-relations takes precedence, so they're first cousins to Charlie and Jasmine's kids, and second cousins to Bill and Fleur's kids. But, to this unborn child, they're related to fourth degree on both sides. Father—grandfather—great-grandfather, and back down to the unborn child. That's four steps. And from the mother's side—"

"I get the picture!" Peterson interrupted, smiling slightly. "Mother—grandparents—aunt, and unborn child. But are you sure you're using the degrees system properly? Because the way _I_ heard it, it's got to do with the percentage of shared genes. Parents and full siblings are first degree relatives because they have fifty percent of their genes in common. Grandparents, uncles, aunts, half-siblings, and double cousins are all second degree relatives, because they have twenty-five percent of their genes in common. Generational jumps are irrelevant. Maybe the degrees you're talking about are used when determining who inherits when a relative dies and there isn't a will. On the other hand, maybe your way _is_ better. It's a lot less complicated. Cousins are fourth-degree relatives whether they are normal, double, or half-cousins. But in the genetic system they'd be third, second, and fourth.

"Yeah, your way is definitely better," Peterson decided. "The genetic way doesn't cover people like the Wolfe kids. I mean, even if they're officially first cousins to Jasmine and Bill's—"

"Jasmine's married to Charlie," Harry corrected.

"—sorry, Jasmine and _Charlie's_ children, they've got a little over fourteen percent of common genes instead of the normal twelve and a half that make first cousins."

Harry tried to work it out in his mind, but he had lost track of his thoughts when Peterson had started to include double and half-cousins into their discussion. "So does my system work better, or not?"

Peterson giggled. "I suppose we're both right. I'm not sure if there's a precedent for this. Men Ironheart's age don't usually father children anymore, and the odds of doing so with a sister of a grandson's wife … well, we're looking at a unique situation. As for how the Wolfe children will address the newborn, I think it's safe to say that they'll go with a link that doesn't transcend generations and fits better, age-wise. And if you're still worried, the genetic system can force a tie break. The Wolfe boys and the unborn child have a lot more genes in common through the maternal link than the paternal one. Or if you want to keep it simple, a great-aunt equals a first cousin _twice removed_, so the link between the mothers is definitely closer."

Harry realised that she was right. "That didn't occur to me."

Peterson shrugged. "I'm good with details. But now that we're on the subject, you don't strike me as someone to obsess over genealogy."

"After hearing that Thetis was pregnant, I couldn't help but to stop and think about it. Normally I'm rather indifferent about these things."

"How is Ironheart going to tell his wife?" Peterson wondered out loud.

"She already knows. I reckon she's a bit more forgiving because she knows that it's the Mirror Realm bringing out the demon inside him."

"So the lucky old bastard is getting away with it?"

"Not entirely. Now that Thetis is pregnant, Aria is determined to make sure that Donovan won't spend all his time shagging women all over the Mirror Realm after the child is born. She wants him to stay close and be a good father."

Something over Harry's shoulder drew Peterson's attention. "It looks like I'm needed elsewhere. Thanks for the gossip. Now I have something to talk about at the water cooler."

"And I'd better go tell Nicolai and Jasmine that they're getting a new aunt."

"Ah yes, the Eight Sequoias' inauguration. Mary and Gudrun invited me too, but I won't be able to make it until six. Oh, and how do you think I should dress? I heard Princess Mayumi is also there, so—"

"Honestly, Mayumi isn't the only royalty present. Matt's a sovereign prince and Nicolai is an emperor. There's no need to make a big deal out of her presence."

"Good point. I guess Mayumi's presence makes me nervous because her family's domain is in the Earth Realm, and because I don't know her. On the other hand, Nicolai's mother was a friend of mine before his imperial heritage was known. The same can be said for my relationship with Mary and Gudrun."

"Informal," Harry answered her earlier question. "It's an 'around the pool' party, so I'm going dressed for that. And Mayumi isn't here in an official capacity, so I'm sure she's letting her hair down."

"Whew, what a relief. See you later, Divinely Marked One!"

Chief Peterson strode away before Harry could reply, so he settled for ruefully shaking his head. He had thought that word of his nicknames hadn't crossed into the Earth Realm, but evidently he needed to think again. Shunting that particular mystery to the back of his mind, he made his way to a portal that would take him to the Citadel, where he needed to drop off the scroll he was carrying for Ironheart. He briefly thought about creating his own doorway, but decided that it was better to keep that ability under wraps as much as possible. He decided to create a doorway to Captain Kovalenko's after the portal took him to the Citadel's entrance hall.

* * *

Hermione was fascinated by the sight of Matt's aunt wolfing down her second helping, interrupted only by the occasional swig of beer straight from the bottle. One would think that the first generous helping would have filled her up, especially since she had eaten two whole trays of hors d'oeuvres by herself while she'd been lounging in the Jacuzzi. She _did_ look like she could be a serious contender at any eating contest, however, and if one split her blonde hair into two plaits, added a Viking helmet, a forbidding breastplate with enough volume to encase her, and the rest of the battle attire, Betty Kelly could easily play the part of the big-boned Valkyrie Brunhilde in Wagner's _Der Ring des Nibelungen_.

"Mum loves a good barbecue," Wendy's voice came suddenly.

Hermione tore her eyes away from the large woman. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to stare like that."

"As long no one gets between her and her tucker and longnecks, she's oblivious to the outside world when she's eating."

"I reckon her appetite is justified," Hermione said carefully. "She isn't a small woman."

Wendy sniggered. "That's an understatement. We have giant blood, Hermione. Everyone knows about my great-great-great grandfather, Liam Kelly, the best giant-slayer of his time. What they don't know is that he was half-giant himself. He hid it by drinking potions that shrank him. That's my family's shameful little secret. I found out about it after digging through the family archives."

"Giant blood, eh? I thought Matt was tall because both his parents were tall."

"Kellys _did_ often choose tall mates out of convenience, so there was no reason for anyone to suspect giant blood. But my father is five-foot-five, and Mum's mum was short too. That's what made me look at my family tree a bit more closely. I knew it was very unlikely that the Kelly height survived two 'shortness assaults' unscathed without there being a magical reason. It's nearly impossible for a gene to be _that_ dominant."

Hermione frowned. Something Wendy had said conflicted with her memories. "I could be wrong, but your grandmother doesn't look that small on the portrait that used to hang at Kellys' Keep."

"That's not my grandmother. That was my grandpa's first wife. She disappeared on an Acromantula expedition to Borneo. Grandpa Newton eventually remarried _my_ grandmother, and they had my mum. Uncle Byron and Aunt Zelda are from the first marriage."

"So you're—I'm not sure the term exists—Matt's _half_-cousin."

"Yep." A wistful smile appeared on Wendy's face. "And that difference nearly made me his wife."

"Oh?" Hermione put her plate on a little table next to her poolside recliner and settled in to listen, her tiredness immediately forgotten.

"Uncle Byron attended the wedding of a Pakistani business associate's son, which is where he got the idea. He wanted to keep the family fortune as intact as possible, and a marriage between Matt and me was one step in the right direction. We were already fooling around, so I guess he thought he might as well try to make it official. My mum was initially against it, though, because she believes that first cousins are an instant recipe for six-fingered children. See, Grandma's a Seppo, and—"

"I'm sorry, a _Seppo_?"

"Yank? American?"

"Oh, right."

"So she's American, and she's from one of those states where first cousin marriages are banned. She passed some of that prejudice on to Mum."

Hermione knew that was silly. People always said that chance of children born to first cousins having birth defects _was_ twice as large as those born to unrelated parents—which was true. But they conveniently forgot to mention the percentages, which were four to six instead of the two to three percent chance unrelated couples had. Moreover, first-cousin couples appeared to be twice as fertile as unrelated ones and had fewer miscarriages, though both the Muggle and wizarding jury were still out on the exact cause of this.

"Byron convinced your mum by telling her that half-cousins didn't have that problem, didn't he?"

"Right in one."

"So what went wrong?"

"Matt ran into his summer fling—who we now know was Gudrun—a month later, spoiling Byron's plans. When that happened, Matt and I had already been fooling around off and on for two years—since he was twelve and I was thirteen. We both snogged other people from time to time, but I thought we'd really get together when we were older. I was thrilled with Uncle Byron's plan, and I was crushed when I realised just how hard Matt had fallen for Gudrun over the summer."

"So Byron had Matt's memories of Gudrun removed, thinking that it would fix the problem," Hermione said, putting the pieces of the puzzle together.

"Well, I didn't know that Matt had been Memory Charmed to forget about Gudrun—I thought Byron had talked him out of it somehow—but yeah, that's what happened. Anyway, Matt and I _did_ get something going again after his memory was altered, and it lasted through school and his Auror training—right up until he joined the Order of Illumination. But during that time—every time there was a Muggle or Muggle-born girl who looked or acted like Gudrun—it became obvious that the Memory Charm hadn't erased everything. He broke it off with me lots of times, only to come back disappointed, time after time. It must have been him subconsciously realising that the girls weren't Gudrun."

Hermione reached over and patted Wendy's knee sympathetically. "Him breaking up with you every time must have hurt, right?"

Wendy nodded emphatically. "Bloody oath! But it wasn't all bad. During the break-up before the final one, when I was being taught business and management and Matt was in Auror training, a female friend comforted me and I discovered that I fancied women almost as much as men. And in spite of all the break-ups, Matt was wonderful to me when we _were_ together." She leaned in closer and added whispering, "Also, I have yet to find a better lover than he. _Male or female_."

"Oh, my!" Hermione took a large gulp of lemonade. She had heard Gudrun's stories and read her booklets, but up she had always assumed that Gudrun exaggerated her husband's skill a little.

Wendy smiled salaciously. "Yes, indeed!"

"Talking about blokes, I bet!" Ron's voice sounded from behind them.

"Ron!" Hermione rolled off her recliner and launched herself at him. His arms slid around her waist and pinned her against his chest as their lips met in a passionate kiss. To her relief, Ron's fervour easily equalled hers, putting to rest certain doubts she had harboured these last few months.

"Guess what?" Ron said after they broke apart to breathe. "I've talked Captain Kovalenko into giving you the next three days off. It was tricky, but when she called Montoya to see if there was any way to get you some time off, he said he'd give the two new Medical Division recruits their first taste of the graveyard shift a week early. I know three days isn't much, but your expertise is considered a precious commodity. In exchange for getting you three days off now, I had to give up three of my own for later."

Hermione's chest cavity filled with warmth. "Oh Ron, you didn't have to."

"What's the point of having those days if I can't spend them with you?" Ron asked, and Hermione answered by kissing him again.

"Hey Ron, if you want food, you'd better break it up before my mum goes back to the buffet for a third helping," Wendy said softly.

Hermione released Ron and allowed him to hurry to the buffet, where Harry and Gudrun were already heaping food onto their plates. A minute later, he returned with what she would have considered an obscene amount of food, _before_ she had seen Betty Kelly indulging herself. Harry was right behind him, carrying a more modestly loaded plate.

"One of you can have my seat," Wendy offered. "I'm going to take a dip."

"You might get a cramp," Hermione warned.

Wendy heaved an exasperated sigh as she slid in the water. "I'll stay in the shallows, Mum."

Harry sat down on the newly vacated chair while Ron sat on the end of Hermione's chair after she had pulled her legs back to make some space.

"How are things in the Mirror Realm, Harry?" Hermione asked.

Ron shook his head. "Hermione, the man is hungry. Can't you let him eat first?"

Harry acknowledged Ron's protest with a grateful nod, but answered the question anyway. "Training of the first elements of Shamballah's future miniature army has started. It won't be very big, but most of the Mirror Realm is so sparsely populated that it doesn't have to be. I doubt that there are any kingdoms who will be able to raise an army large enough to be a threat to it."

"Did you remember to pop over to the Immortals' Circle and see who is living in Merlin's old house?"

"Actually, I did. It's Pecos Bill and Mayumi's sister."

Ron choked on his food as he heard it.

"Not as a_ couple_, Weasley. She's changed her name to Azumi, by the way. And they've adopted a boy of some type of Jinn subspecies. Pecos Bill called it a Soya-Jinn. He looks a lot like we do, but he's got a monkey tail. I think his race used to dwell in the Far East."

"And how's the situation in Astirian?"

"Steadily improving. It might take several generations for the wounds to heal completely, but at least they're not killing each other."

He paused as Ginny and his three towel-wrapped children—plus Sissi—appeared around his chair and greeting him with hugs. Danny wouldn't let go of Sissi's hand to hug his father, so Harry simply pulled both children in for a hug and kiss. Then he locked his eyes on a chair on the other side of the pool and levitated it over to their side, and the four children immediately climbed on top after it set down.

Ginny sat down next Harry and handed the plate she had taken to allow him to hug the children back to him.

"Hello, honey. Did I miss anything while I was away?" Harry asked.

"Not really," Ginny answered, resting her head on his shoulder. "But I'm glad you're home."

Harry looked from Ginny to his children, and back. "Me too."

* * *

**FIN

* * *

**

**torifire **Yes, it was on purpose.

**Sheila **I've said before that I respect J.KRowling's edict that people can't come back to life in Harry Potter. So no, Wolfe won't come back to life.

**Lady of Masbolle **Think again. Yamato is dead. I've gota new villian for the next and final fic.

**DADAGinny **I hope I tied up all the loose ends.

**hootild **I'm afraid that's it. It was between Harry and Yamato.

**Gogirl** I used to watch it too. I was fun at first, but later on it became more of the same. I'm afervent Ash/Misty shipper. I don't like the girl she was replaced with.

**Nya** I'm glad you like it.

**Lyambren** Better a short one than no review at all.

**Jake** Thatis one uncertainty you will have to live with.

**Elric Magus **Read my typing, Yamato is dead.

**Lipton** I was afraid that it would fall flat, but everyone seems to like it.

**Saint Mike** (points to someearlier review answers)

**Athena McGonagall** Don't worry about it. Lately I've found out how hard real life can intrude.

**Fragarach** That means a lot to me.

I'd like to thank everone who has reviewed. To those of you who waited until the story was done, now is the time.

Peace


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